Changed
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: *Final story in Chosen series* Peeta and Cato are stuck on the opposite sides of the rebellion, one good, one bad. In the Capitol, everything is not as it seems as the truth of what happened when Peeta was kidnapped arises and everything that's real begins to blurr into that which is not. In District 13, Cato stands in Peeta's place as the Mockingjay, but can he bear the burden?
1. Chapter 1

**Changed**

Chapter One

The tea was bitter.

Cato stared at the teacup with a fixated stare. He flicked the porcelin cup with his finger, making the watery green liquid jiggle inside it, splashing over the lip of the cup and pooling in the saucer. What sort of tea was green anyways? He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, listening to the contiunous beeping of the heart rate moniter.

District 13 was the basic equalivant of a military establishment. Cato had been used to tough routines, being raised as a career and all that, but 13 was _strict._ Every rule had to be followed to the letter, no interupretations, no slacking. The President, Alma Coin, had a no tolerance attitude toward anyone who broke the rules or didn't follow their schedule. Which Cato supposed meant he should have been worried, since he hadn't been following his schedule since the day he arrived two weeks ago. He just spent his time in the hospital ward. Just . . . sitting there. Doing nothing.

Rye was stable. In fact, he almost looked like he was sleeping. Harold had said that that was how it worked when someone was in a coma. It looks like they're sleeping, like you could shake their arm and they would wake up, but it's something much deeper. Apparently, you still dream when in a coma. Sometimes Cato wondered what Rye was dreaming about. Life back in 12? His family? Or was he having a nightmare? The least Cato felt he could do was stay by the boy's side in his brother's absence.

Sometimes Mr Mellark would sit with them as well but, because of his current condition, he found it dificult to stay awake too long. It was as if the entire Mellark clan was falling to pieces and Cato was desperately trying to keep them together with duct tape and super glue.

The ward were Rye and Mr Mellark were being treated in also had other members of 12 in it. Cato was surprised by the amount of people who actually got out. The boy who lead everyone to safety-Rory Hawthorne-had ran around the District as soon as the arena blew up, convinced that the Capitol were going to act almost immediately and gathering as many people who were willing to follow him. Apparently he also ran right through the Seam and Merchant area to alert the Mellarks about it, even though the bakery lay on the other of the District.

People Cato didn't recognize were being treated for serious injuries. A blonde girl he recognized from the Victory Tour party in 12 sat in the bed across from Rye. She had been with the Mellarks when the explosion that attacked them occured. A giant chunk of rock-debris from the explosion-hit her head and knocked the sense clean out of her. She was now left with half her memory intact and hallcunations that kept her screaming all night.

Sometimes, if he listened hard enough, Cato could hear her from his room.

District 12 wasn't the only District affected. Citizens from all over Panem were being treated for injuries caused by the aftermath of the Quarter Quell bombing. The lucky ones managed to find their way to 13. The unlucky ones . . . Well, the unlucky ones were either killed or taken prisoner by the Capitol.

Currently, they were at a stalemate. Neither sides wanted to make the first move. 13 didn't have the numbers to attack the Capitol but since the Capitol didn't know this it didn't have the gall to attack 13. There were still battles being fought from one to eleven, rebels fighting loyalists and loyalists fighting rebels. As far as Cato was aware, his home District were on the loyalist's side. Which made glad for the fact that neither him, nor his family, were no longer there.

Over the past fourteen days, there had been times where he just wanted to stop. Where everything would crash in him like a brick dropped onto his conscious. The weight of the current situation, the weight of what was currently happening crippling him to the point where he didn't feel like he was capable of anything other than doing nothing. Cato had to keep reminding himself that doing nothing wasn't going to help anyone, never mind the people he knew he had to save.

"How is he?"

Cato shrugged. He gave the teacup another flick, making more of it spill out. "Same as usual. Regular heartbeat, brain activity normal, ectera, ectera." He brushed his hand along the steel table beside Rye's bed, ridding it of the dust and making it fly around them.

Harold stepped into the room, kitted out completely in military uniform. The Mockingjay emblem was sewn into the breastpocket of his jacket, the mere sight of the bird making Cato scowl. The trouble that damn bird had caused. "Not bothering to ask if there's any news anymore?" Harold asked.

"Why should I?" Cato sighed. "There never is. You say the same thing everytime. _'If there's any news, you'd be the first person I'd tell.'_"

"Well, you are," Harold pointed out. Cato couldn't help noticing with a twinge of concern that the man was carrying a gun. Not that he didn't trust Harold to use the weapon properly but the whole idea of a gun unnerved him. Imagine having a weapon that didn't need you to slash at your opponent, that didn't need close range or struggle to kill. Just the push of a trigger and a bullet that-if the shot is clean enough-can kill instantly.

"If there isn't any news, why are you even here?"

"Because," Harold said, sitting down on the spare chair beside Rye's bed, "I've been told to inform you that you've been walking on thin ice . . . what with your blatant refusal to follow your schedule."

"I have no reason to follow a stupid schedule," Cato simply answered. He couldn't help staring intensely at the boy lying on the hospital bed. Rye looked so much like his brother it was terrifying. Of course, they had distinct differences, the small idiosyncrasies that defined them as their own people, but after being separated for so long, Cato was seeing the similarities more than the differences, just out of desperation to see him in some form again.

"It may seem stupid to you but how this whole thing works," Harold explained. "13 works like a well-oiled machine. One rusty cog and the whole thing falls apart."

"I doubt I'm even much of a cog."

"Cato, you're the image for this rebellion," Harold said. "People are looking at you to see how they should be reacting to this big change. If they see that you're not following Coin's orders then they'll do the same. _He_ was strong enough to make this Mockingjay thing happen, you have to be strong enough to keep it alive in _his _absence."

"Who's _'he'_?" Cato asked. "Are we not going to bother even saying his name anymore? Is that how it works now?"

"You're not the only one hurting, have you even considered that maybe I can't bear to say his name?" Harold asked back. "I know what they do to traitors in the Capitol, I know what they're doing right now, do you know how hard a burden that is to bear?"

"Maybe you should tell me then and the burden wouldn't be as hard to bear." Cato had been trying to get Harold to tell him what he knew about Capitol punishment, just for the smallest of ideas of what was happening the traitors inside the city. But every time Harold refused to divulge that information.

"No," he said, right on que. After that, they sat in silence, unsure about what else they could say to each other. Even if they both weren't the best of friends, one common thread binded them together no matter what, and that thread helped them understand and sympathise with each other. But their lack of friendship was what tripped them up nearly every single time.

Harold's watch bleeped and Cato glanced over at the corner of his eye, watching him as he pulled out the orange container that held his pills. Harold threw it into his mouth and swallowed without anything to wash it down. Maybe he had gotten used to swallowing dry after taking the tablets for so long. The medication was a godsend, really. They had turned Harold into a much better person, someone who Cato didn't dispise the sight of. Even if there would always be a part of him that wouldn't be able to look at him without remembering the horrible thing he had done in the past.

"We should go," Cato said, swallowing the rest of the bitter tea and standing up. "Mr Mellark will be coming shortly and he likes to have some time alone with Rye."

Harold nodded and stood up too. He slipped his pills into the special pocket in his uniform and followed Cato as he headed to the door at the end of the ward. They were nearly at the door when a baby started crying. The alien sound made them both pause. "Is that a baby?" Harold hissed.

"No, it's a mutt," Cato replied sarcastically, turning on his heel and scanning the ward for the source of the sound. Beside the bed which Vick Hawthorne-Rory's brother-was kept in for that one night for observations, was a cot with the youngest of the Hawthornes crying inside it. He looked around for any signs of a nurse or doctor but no one came. "For god's sake, do they believe in tough love or something?"

Leaving Harold at the door, he went to the baby girl's cot and peered inside carefully. He couldn't help thinking if he touched her, she'd explode or something. He was half tempted to leave her to cry but he knew that wouldn't be the right thing to do. What would _he_ do if he was here? He wouldn't leave her to cry. The sign at the end of the bed said, 'Posy Hawthorne'. Okay, so she was definitely a girl.

"Are you trying to play daddy now?" Harold asked, sounding exasperated.

"We can't just leave her to cry!" Cato replied. He carefully lifted Posy out of her cot and held her against his chest, the way he used to hold Kayla when she cried as a baby.

"Oh well this is a confusing sight," Harold said. "Scary career holding a gentle baby? Do you know how weird that looks right now?"

"We have children you know," Cato said acidly.

"Yeah, but you don't seem like the sort who'd know how to care for one. I always thought . . . if you had kids, he'd be the one who looked after them more than you would," Harold explained. "Well, I also thought he'd spoil them as well, you'd be the one to stop him from going too far."

Cato sighed and turned around to face Harold, Posy still sniffling in his arms. "Okay, I'm not going to act like I haven't done it either but you know the whole 'he' and 'his' thing, we have to stop it. He has a name and we have to use it."

"You do it first," Harold said.

Cato paused, swaying from side to side to soothe Posy and rock her back to sleep. It was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite get it out. "I can't," he finally admitted. "Can't you try first?"

"God, you'd think we were trying to recite the treaty of treason or something," Harold admitted. "Why are we so weak?"

Posy clutched Cato's shirt in her small fists, yawning sleepily and nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck. Cato cupped the back of her head, enjoying the feeling of having her in his arms. Babies were something that had always fascinated him. They were always something he wanted someday. Children to love and care for. "We're not weak," he muttered.

"Yes we are," Harold replied. "You just can't admit it. We can't say a name."

"It's not any old name. It's _his_."

"Which we should be saying over and over again because we don't know how much longer we'll be able to say it," Harold pointed out.

Cato scowled. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh thank god! You got her!" Kayla came through the door, making Harold jump out of his skin. She had her Trainee Medic badge clipped to her shirt, badge a blue cross with two snakes wrapped around it. She took Posy out of Cato's arms and bounced the small child up and down a bit, making her laugh. "She's been plagued with the cold, poor mite."

"She was just crying," Cato told his sister.

Kayla nodded. "I don't blame her," she said. "They say when children's parents die-whether it be the mother or the father-their children can sense it."

"It's true."

Harold jumped again as Primrose Everdeen bumped open the same door Kayla came through with her hip as she entered, a Medic badge clipped to her jacket. Primrose was mentoring Kayla through her medic course. Since she had previous experience aiding her mother as the healer in 12, Primrose was qualified to be a full medic whereas since Kayla had no past experience, she had to start from scratch. It had actually surpsied Cato when his sister told him she wanted to be a medic.

"Posy-coupled with the cold-can probably feel that her mother is dead," Primrose explained.

"Did you feel the same? With your dad?" Kayla asked.

Primrose nodded. "Yeah, I guess," she said. "But when the mine exploded . . . I think both myself and Katniss just sort of . . . knew." Upon hearing Katniss' name, Cato couldn't help feeling wrong standing in the same room as Primrose as if he hadn't killed her sister. However, the little girl didn't seem to hold any hostility towards him. Maybe she understood why her sister did what she did. Cato hadn't wanted to kill her, Katniss had asked him to.

"I bet Peeta felt the same, when his mother died," Kayla said, laying Posy back into her cot.

Cato and Harold both exchanged a startled look. There it was. The name that had been struggling to say out of reluctance to experience the pain that came with it. But now that Kayla had said it so easily, it made Cato feel so foolish for being so closed off about it the entire time.

As if sensing her brother's reaction, Kayla glanced at Cato. "You do realize that hiding from the truth isn't going to make it any easier to accept, don't you?" she asked.

"I'm not hiding from anything," Cato answered, feeling defensive about it.

"Say the name then," his sister responded.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't."

"What's his _name_ Cato?"

"You just said it, you don't need me to answer that."

Kayla rolled her eyes and left a paper themometer in Posy's cot. Primrose adjusted the themometer so it was closer to the baby and carefully brushed the hair from the infant's forehead. Posy was still slightly restless, squirming around in her cot. "I hate it when they're like this," Primrose said quietly. "Because there isn't much we can do."

"Come on Cato, we've got things to do," Harold said, heading to the door again. Cato nodded and turned to leave again.

"Little child, be not afraid, though rain pounds harshly against the glass, like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger, I am here tonight."

Cato paused and glanced over his shoulder. Kayla was crouched beside Posy's cot, gently singing to her the lullaby he sang to her when the tree branches used to scape her window during storms, frightening her to the point of tears. She had only been a toddle then, he didn't think she remembered it at all.

"Little child, be not afraid, though thunder explodes and lightening flash, illuminates, your tear stained face, I am here tonight," his sister gently sang. Posy seemed enamoured, listening to her intently. "And someday you'll know, that nature is so, the same rain that draws you near me, falls on river and land, and forest and sand, it's what makes the beautiful world we see in the morning."

Primrose picked the paper themometer out and copied out the results with a small smile. Maybe she was remembering a lullaby she used to hear when she was little. Maybe it was the same lullaby Katniss sung to the little girl Rue as she died in her arms?

Cato looked at Primrose. _Properly._ She was a thirteen year old girl-not old enough to even handle a gun or go to weapons training-who had suffered two bereavements within her family and still had the strength to stand in the same room as the man who killed her sister without even flinching. She still had the courage to smile, to work, to do what she loved, even though her family was in tatters. _She_ was able to say Katniss' name. Without a problem. And Cato knew without a doubt that she could say her father's name as well.

So why couldn't he say _his_?

"His name," he murmured. Kayla looked up from Posy's cot, her eyebrows lifting to her hairline. Primrose paused nd looked up as well. He even felt Harold stiffen beside him. "It's Peeta. His name's Peeta."

Kayla's fact lit up, a small breaking out across her face. "Yes it is," she replied. "And it's about time you stopped acting like he's dead."

"Because he's not," Primrose said. "Trust me, if he was, we'd know."

"You can say it too, Harold," Kayla encouraged. Cato looked at Harold but the Capitol man shook his head, throwing the door open and disappearing from the room. Kayla sighed. "Hopefully he'll come around."

"If you don't mind my asking, why couldn't you say the name in the first place?" Primrose asked.

"Because sometimes these things are too hard to bear. When Cato thinks something is his fault, the guilt will be so strong he'll find it difficult to actknowledge the person or their title," Kayla explained for him. "He could say Clove's name for months after she died. He can now, can't you, Cato?"

"Yeah," Cato answerd. He wasn't able to say Clove's name for ages, the guilt that riddled him at the mere thought of her death being too hard to think of. It was his fault Peeta was captured and that was what had held him back from saying his name for so long. Because he was scared that saying it would be like admitting that it was all his fault. And, even though it was all his fault, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle taking the blame for it all. But that wasn't what happened. In fact, it felt good saying Peeta's name again.

Two weeks might as well have been two centuries.

"Cato!" Harold barked, suddenly irritable. "Coin wants to talk to you!"

"What? She does?" Cato pivoted on his heel and left the room, waving goodbye to Kayla and Primrose at the door.

What did Coin want with him anyway?

~xXx~

_The best place to cry is on a mother's arms._

Peeta sat on the floor of the sitting room, his legs crossed underneath him. President Snow was seated in a massive chair that was located in the corner, almost like a throne that domainted the entire room. And, of course, his mother was on the sofa right in front of him, the smile he remembered from the old days burned on his face.

"You're going to do as we tell you to, aren't you?" Semira asked him, acting as if she hadn't done anything to him. As if she had always been there for him, like any mother should be.

"Depends on what it is you tell me to do," Peeta muttered.

"You could at least look at me when you speak," Semira pointed out.

Peeta lifted his eyes to look his mother in the eyes, feeling like a scolded child. "Depends on what it is you tell me to do," he repeated, holding eye contact. Semira laughed, as if his answer amused her. He resisted the urge to scowl at her.

"The question was only for the benefit of yourself. I was hoping you'd just say yes," she chuckled. "I mean, we are your parents and you will do as we tell you."

"He's not my dad!" Peeta blurted out, pointing at Snow accusingly.

"He's a better father than your good-for-nothing dad ever was!" Semira snapped. She grabbed the front of Peeta's shirt and smacked him, the familiar burn making him wince in pain. It only took him about five minutes to actually realize that his mother hadn't changed one bit. Apart from some comestic surgery to make her look younger, of course.

It turned out that President Snow and Semira staged her death as the Capitol was not happy with her angry, pessemistic attitude. She was a shadow of darkness across the bright, candy coloured Capitol and no one liked her because of this. Since President Snow had always put the Capitol before anyone else but still loved Semira, they staged the death to keep them sated and she has been in hiding ever since. Sort of grim, if you think about it.

"I promise I'll treat you like you were my real son," President Snow said, his whole voice dripping in condescention.

"A real father wouldn't have forced his son into a ridiculous love triangle, black mailing him that if he didn't do it, he'd kill the man he loved," Peeta retorted acidly. "Or forced him to lose his virginity! Or to take nude photos of himself just for the giggles!"

"Please don't tell me that Mya was such a horrible host that she turned you gay?" Semira asked, her face a picture of perfect shock, the realization of her theory just dawning on her.

"No!" Peeta exclaimed. "That's not how it works!"

His mother relaxed. "Thank god," she sighed. "That would have been weird."

_"Weird?"_

"Watch your tone," President Snow said, already sounding like a father figure. Peeta looked at him in horror. Was he being _serious_ right now? Semira snickered and tapped arm of the President's throne.

"You forced him to lose his virginity?" she asked.

President Snow grinned and nodded.

"Oh my god, I love it!" Semira cackled.

Peeta stared at them both, unable to believe what was actually happening right now. If they were thinking about even _trying_ to make this family work, they were way over their heads. It would be too dysfunctional and he just knew he would be constantly ganged up on and very probably smacked around. Not that he wanted a new family anyway. He already missed Wheat, Rye and his dad horribly.

"What do you two even want with me anyway?" he asked.

Semira sighed, brushing her blonde hair behind her ears. "Despite your incompetance, you somehow managed to become a image for this rebellion or whatever. You need to be hidden away from the rebels, to make the flame that sparked die away before it goes too far."

"So you're just going to, what? Hide me? Like you've been hiding yourself for the past two years?" Peeta asked.

"Basically, yes."

"You can't do that!"

"Actually we can. You can't go anywhere, the entire mansion is guarded. We have your friends captive and everytime you try to escape, we'll hurt them," President Snow explained.

"My friends?"

"Miss Mason, young Ava Green and Annie Cresta."

"Annie? I don't know an Annie."

Snow smirked. "You mightn't, but Mr Odair does. They were once very close, until Finnick got so . . . _distracted_ with other things." Semira chuckled, like Snow had just referenced to an inside joke. Peeta didn't like the sound of it and, if there was a joke, he didn't want to hear it. But he wasn't going to let an innocent girl get hurt just because of his actions. He just couldn't do something like that.

"Now, if we're done flapping our jaws, I have to check on the baby," Semira said, heaving herself off the sofa.

Peeta's blood ran cold. "Baby?" he asked slowly.

"Oh yeah, about that, come with me," Semira answered. She grabbed Peeta's arm and hauled him to his feet as well, jerking her head for him to follow her. "Say goodbye to your father before you go."

Peeta gritted his teeth and stared at the wall. "Bye Snow."

His mother scowled and hit him upside the head. "Address him properly."

He reluctantly turned his head to look at President Snow, his eyebrows screwed up in a scowl. Snow was grinning like a chesire cat, amued by his annoyance and discomfort. "Bye . . . dad." The word tasted wrong on his tongue and Peeta pulled a face. Thankfully, it was enough for his mother.

Swallowing the worried lump in his throat, he followed her down the wide corridor that lead to a red velvet carpeted staircase. Peeta had to jog to keep up with her as she flew up the stairs, almost like a bird. The Snow mansion was like a labyrinth and they took countless twists that he lost track of before Semira finally came to a stop in front of a room with a rosa pink door. His heart felt like it was in his throat as they entered the room.

The entire space was painted pink, the walls a brighter shade than the slightly darker, raspberry carpet. Teddies and dollies seemed to stare at him as he awkwardly stood in the doorway, feeling like an intruder. There were some cartoons stickers on the walls, a wardrobe sitting in the corner. The thing that worried Peeta the most was the little fuchsia cot pushed against the far wall. A mobile of farm animals spun around in a never ending circuit, small spotlights lighting up the cot below it.

"Oh hello baby mommy's here," Semira cooed, scooping the baby out of the cot and holding it close. "Look who I brought." She turned around so Peeta could see the child properly. She had big brown eyes that stared right into his soul and a smile broke across her face as soon as she saw him.

"W-who is that?" Peeta asked.

"It's Emily, your baby sister," Semira said. "Well, half sister but that's a technicality. Here, hold her." She handed Peeta the baby before he could protest. He couldn't believe it. This little baby was his half sister. He had a _half sister._ Who had the same mother as him but . . . a different father.

So Semira had finally got what she wanted. The little girl she had always longed for.

"Now we're all a happy family, aren't we?" Semira said, kissing Peeta's forehead and tickling under Emily's chin to make her laugh. "And you're going to do what your father tells you, aren't you? For your baby sister?"

"What's he going to tell me to do?"

Semira smiled. "All in good time."

**A/N: I apologize for any mistakes. I'm still not in best form right now but I did my best! :)**

**Please R&R! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Two

It was no secret that both Harold and Cato were rebels in District 13. In the Capitol, they were basically traitors. And, because of this, it was only feesible for Peeta to be upset. Broken from the knowledge the not one but both of his boyfriends were on the 'wrong' side of the rebellion. That they were traitors. The citzens _expected_ Peeta to be sad. Maybe even a little bit angry. This, he could do, because he really was sad and angry, just not for the same reasons.

With the knowledge that Peeta was miserable and 'single' again, came the nosey citizens who wished to help. Some baked 'Sorry!' cupcakes, some sent cards, some sent teddies and nick nacks. Peeta wasn't sure whether to be touched by their concern or irritated by their persistance.

He was in the sitting room, seated in a red velvet chair placed in the corner, playing with a penguin plushie someone sent that he'd tried to give to Emily but got turned down as she was still too fascinated with the koala from the previous day. For a large amount of the time he'd been in President Snow's mansion, he'd been given babysitting duties while Semira and Snow went off to do god knows what.

He could already tell that Emily had been spolit by her parents. When he tried to say no to her, she'd cry and not stop until he let her have her way. The first time she pulled this, Peeta had tried to stay strong and not give in but, upon hearing her daughter's cries, Semira had came in and smacked him for not giving Emily what she wanted. After that Peeta decided just to let Emily be a spolied bratt, that it was best to not get involved.

It became clear what Snow intended to do with him when he started forcing Peeta to make public appearances with him. In the Capitol, it was as if they were unaware of a rebellion even taking place. They went on with normal life as if nothing had happened. The only difference was that what they currently had was all they were going to get. The only Districts who weren't on the rebels side were the career Districts 1, 2, and 4, and they continued to provide the city with the necessities they needed. But you can't survive on jewels, weapons and fish all your life. Eventually, they were going to run out of the things the other Districts provided. Things like fabrics were being rationed and meat was sparsely sold anymore. But Peeta soon learned that nearly every house had a fall out shelter. Full of tinned goods they'd saved up in case something like . . . well . . . _this_ happened.

The public appearances were strange. Peeta didn't like having to get dressed up and smile like nothing was wrong but still be able to be sad if asked about Cato or Harold. He didn't want to be the celebrity survivor of the Quarter Quell who somehow hadn't gotten poisoned by the rebels and their 'lies'. At first, he thought this was how Snow was going to punish him. By glamourising his life and turning him into a public icon for the citizens to lean on while most of their other beloved Victors were being treated as traitors.

But that wasn't it.

It took Peeta a week to realize what was happening. Snow wasn't just sending him off to talk shows or photoshoots just for the sake of irritating him, he was _flaunting_ him. He was showing him off to the citizens in a way that told them that he was single and lonely and needed someone to . . . 'take care' of him. Snow was basically putting Peeta up for sale to them.

Now he was waiting to see if someone was actually going to bite the bait.

Emily gurgled in her walkie, the koala discarded on the floor. She was eyeing the penguin in Peeta's hands curiously, as if waiting on him to hand it over to her. "I thought you didn't want this?" he asked her, holding it out of her reach.

Immediately, her face crumpled.

"Okay, okay, calm down, take the damn thing," he said, giving her the penguin before it started a crying match. Emily's face lit up and she started to knaw on the poor penguin's foot. Peeta cringed. Oh well, there were plenty of Capitol plushies strewn across the room to last a lifetime.

As he sat staring at his sister eating the penguin, Snow came into the room with Semira at his heels. Peeta had gotten used to the image of his mother glued to Snow's side, the two of them seeming to be the only people to make each other happy. Two sadists meeting and never separating. How romantic(!) "Don't tell me, Caeser Flickerman's guest has cancelled and you need me to save the day by going on his show and gushing about how happy yet broken I am inside?" Peeta asked dryly.

"Attitude Peeta," his mother scolded harshly.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing what it would probably result in. "What is it then?" he asked.

"You're going out tonight," Semira told him.

Peeta raised his eyebrows. "Oh am I now?" he asked. "And where, pray tell, am I going?"

"We've finally decided on who's going to be your first buyer," Snow answered. "It was actually really difficult, almost as bad a demand as we got for Finnick when he was first put out there."

Peeta hadn't thought about it before, but it made sense that Snow had sold Finnick to the Capitol citizens. It explained why he had someone new on his arm every other week, never having seemed to have withheld a substantial relationship. He was good looking enough to bring in loads of money for Snow and the city. But hadn't he said he didn't deal in money? Maybe he just meant himself, whoever bought him probably paid Snow anyway. The whole system was appalling.

Still, it didn't seem all that horrible. Peeta had been acting for a long time now, pretending that everything was okay when in public, and going on a date with someone and acting like he was enjoying himself wasn't horrifying. He had thought that Snow was going to do something much worse than that. Like torture or mutilation, the standard stuff for traitors and deserters. Sure, going on a date with a Capitol citizen would be annoying but compared to the stuff that _could_ have been done to him, it wasn't so bad in hindsight.

"So who is this guy then?" Peeta asked.

"His name is Hunter. He's actually a close friend of mine who-"

"Who you didn't choose because he was better than the others, you chose because he's your friend," Peeta said flatly.

"Don't interuppt," Semira snapped.

"_Who_ paid a substantial amount of money for you," Snow finished.

"I knew this is what you were going to do," Peeta said, almost truimphantly. "Well, too bad for you, it actually doesn't sound all that bad. Compared to what you could have decided to do to me." Snow laughed. Semira looked amused too. Peeta suddenly wasn't feeling all that confident about the easiness of his task. "Why are you laughing?" he asked.

"Because, my dear boy, you don't seem to realize the extent of what we were charging for," Snow explained.

"At first we thought we were going to just torture you, like what is currently happening to Miss Mason, Miss Cresta and Miss Green in the prison cells," Semira continued. The thought of Ava, Johanna and Annie being tortured made Peeta feel hollow inside. "But we realized that that wouldn't suffice. You'd feel the pain, sure, but I know you, Peeta, and you'd grit your teeth and bear it. For the sake of your . . . _boyfriend._" She spat out the last word like it was acid on her tongue.

"So . . . ?" Peeta asked.

"So, Snow came up with an ingenius idea," Semira said. "Something that will make you pay for ruining the arena."

"But what is it?"

"We decided to use the one thing you've never fully understood against you," Snow explained. "Your sexuality."

"My . . . what?"

"In the absence of Finnick Odair, you will play escort to any and all men who pay for you," Snow said.

Peeta stared at Snow. One part shock, the other indifferent. He had expected something worse and he had gotten it. A part of him thought that he should be horrified and disgusted, but for the past two weeks he had been with Snow in his house, he had grown much more. He wasn't going to give Snow the satisfaction of seeing him break. He couldn't. That was what he wanted.

He wasn't going to give Snow what he wanted so easily.

Instead he found himself thinking of something completely different and totally irrevelvant.

"Where's Cinna?"

If Snow was surprised by Peeta's lack of reaction to his threat, he didn't show it. "Cinna?" he asked, as if he could not recall who he was talking about.

"You know who I'm talking about," Peeta said. "Cinna. My stylist."

"Oh, _him_," Snow said. "Dead. Killed during interrogation."

"What were you interrogating him for?" Peeta asked.

Snow shrugged. "Nothing in particular."

Peeta clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to snap something nasty back. They were interrogating Cinna for nothing. They killed Cinna for nothing. Because of the Mockingjay wings he built into his suit jacket. He died trying to increase the image for the rebellion. And now Peeta was stuck here, in the Capitol, being forced to take on Finnick's role as an escort with nothing to do but sit and watch the rebellion brew. This wasn't what he was supposed to be doing. He was supposed to be the image. Wasn't that what the Districts were looking for?

And he could do nothing.

Some Mockingjay he turned out to be.

"I would have thought your reaction to Snow's punishment would have been different," his mother said a little while later. Snow himself was off doing Presidential things and they were the only two in the sitting room, unless you counted baby Emily.

"I'm used to punishments like that," Peeta replied, picking at a loose thread on the chair. "You develop an immunity to it."

"Aren't you worried about what your boyfriend will think of you?" Semira was trying to poke a reaction from him. She did it a lot when he was little, Peeta could recognize it a mile off by now.

"I was raped by a Capitol man and Cato never batted an eyelash," he simply answered. "I'm not worried about what he's going to think of me."

"Aren't you scared?" Semira insisted. Peeta risked a glance at her. Her blue eyes were bright, searching. It reminded Peeta of the first time someone told him that he looked like her. He had been ten years old and one of Semira's friends came into the bakery. While he had packed up the bread for her, she'd taken a hard look at him and said, _"You're the spitting image of your mother."_ Back then he hadn't minded that much but once the trauma with Mya occured, he hated the fact that he looked like her.

"I've been scared ever since I was kidnapped. Every waking hour is filled with nothing but fear. When you experience that kind of thing every day you become accustomed to it. I don't expect you to realize that, since you seem to have been enjoying yourself ever since you were arrested." It was odd saying 'enjoying yourself' and 'arrested' in the same sentence.

Semira chuckled, as if this were amusing. "You're right. Your mother has been living on easy street since the arrest."

"You're not my mother. You lost the right to that title the moment you sent me out of the bakery that night." Peeta didn't look away from her as he said this. He didn't even flinch.

Semira scowled but she didn't say another word. She focused all her attention on Emily. Peeta preferred it that way. He didn't like it when she tried to be nice, tried to be a mother figure, as if she hadn't destroyed his life. Emily seemed to adore her mother, laughing when she cooed at her, grabbing her finger when she held it out, reacting to all her little jokes and animations of her toys. Peeta couldn't help remembering how she treated him when he was two. He was treated like a rat who had invaded her household. Dirty. Unwelcome.

Sometimes he wondered if Semira ever loved him.

"You should get ready," Semira said, not turning away from Emily. Her voice was dead. Emotionless. "Hunter will be waiting."

~xXx~

President Coin was a complex woman.

Either you were on her good side, or her bad side. The best side to be on, obviously, was her good side. Cato wasn't sure which side he was on at the moment. He didn't feel like he merited to be on the better side, since he had been ignoring her schedule and been spending all his time in the medical ward, staying by Rye's side and watching his sister learn from Prim.

President Coin was also an intimidating woman. She stood with a posture so stiff you wonder if her bones were made of metal. Her expression gave nothing away. You couldn't even see tints of emotion smouldering underneath her placid features. You could only guess what she was thinking. And most of the time you'd be wrong.

"Tell me Cato, why have you been spending so much time in the medical ward?" Coin asked. She had an unwavering gaze that would make most feel small but was a gaze that Cato was able to hold. He may have been many things, may have let many people make him feel many things, but small was not going to be one of them.

"I've been sitting with Ryean Mellark when his father can't be there," he simply answered.

Coin wasn't impressed. "You've been ignoring your schedule for a boy you barely know." It was a statement, not a question.

"No offence but I find Peeta's family much more important than your schedule," Cato replied. He felt like he was being unfairly scolded by a teacher who'd caught him doing something he shouldn't in class. "And I'd much prefer to look after Ryean in Peeta's absence than I'd prefer to follow your silly schedule."

"Silly?" Coin demanded. "The schedule is not silly. It's to teach you the skills needed to become a solider for the rebel forces. You may be the image of this rebellion but it doesn't mean you automatically know what you're doing. All you have going for yourself is a temper problem and the ablity to wield a sword. These are not useful skills when faced with a military problem. Tell me, Cato, do you know how to use any other weapon other than a sword?"

"Yes, that's how careers are trained. With every weapon possible. We choose the weapon we're best at in the arena."

"So you know how to load and shoot a gun?"

"Obviously not, guns are forbidded in the Games. They kill too quickly."

"Well, you have to learn. When faced with an opposing force with a gun and you're armed with nothing but a sword, who do you think is going to win. You or the solider with the gun?"

Cato frowned. "The man with the gun."

"And you still wish to witter your time away babying a boy who doesn't even know you're there?" Coin sounded like she didn't fully understand why he wasn't seeing what she was trying to say. Cato knew what she was trying to say but it didn't matter to him. The safety of Peeta and his own families was always going to come first. Not some District 13 concentration camp style schedule.

"Ryean is important to Peeta. So he's important to me."

"But you barely know him."

"He's Peeta's family."

"But he's not _yours._"

Cato shook his head. "Can't you see it doesn't matter what you say to me, I'm not going to follow your orders Coin. You're not the boss of me."

President Coin's gaze sent a shiver down his spine. "I thought you'd act like this," she stated. Cato watched as she went to one of the tech guys and took over their computer, rapidly typing on the keyboard and bringing something up on the massive screen on the back wall. At first, Cato didn't understand what he was looking at. It looked like a website of some description but as he took a closer look, he realized it was a contract. He leaned forward, squinting to read the small print.

_'I consent to pay the amount of money previously agreed upon to spend (insert number of minutes/hours/days) with President Snow's step-son, Peeta Mellark. I recognize that I cannot claim ownership or relationship status with the person above and will not keep them longer than the time agreed._

_Rules that must be upheld:_

_Marks can be body polished but no severe harm can be caused._

_Do not engage in an activity you don't fully understand that might/will put yourself or above person at risk of death._

_You can flaunt your activites to friends and family but do not advertise person above's services._

_Signature:_

_President's Signature: Corneiluis Snow_

_Relationship to person: Step-father.'_

"What the hell is this?" Cato demanded.

Coin gestured to the screen. "This? This is what they're doing to Mr Mellark in the Capitol. They have replaced Mr Odair's services with Peeta's as punishment for blowing up the arena. You want to stay by Ryean's side and not bother aiding the revolution in any way, fine, but we won't have a Mockingjay and without an image we have no legs to stand on. And the longer this war goes on, the more aquaintances Peeta will be introduced to and get to know on more than a name only basis."

Cato felt sick. He remembered Clove telling him on their floor in the training center the previous year about how her mother had bought Finnick for a night because her dad had stopped wishing to be intimate with her. Clove's mother was a sadist, she liked being control and watching the person beneath her writhe in pain and know that she is the one causing and controlling it. Clove had said she found the receipt. She said that her mother had been allowed to do whatever she wanted with Finnick, as long as she paid the correct amount of money.

Now that was happening to Peeta.

"I don't see how my following a schedule is going to help," Cato said helplessly.

"It will aid you in becoming a solider," Coin replied. "It will help the army grow stronger. And, sometimes, you will film propos to appeal to those in the Districts who are still unsure about who's side they're on."

"Propos?"

"Propaganda."

"Will I still get to visit Ryean and Mr Mellark?" Cato asked.

Coin didn't look too happy about the idea but conceeded. "I'm sure it can be arranged." She watched Cato carefully while he made his decision. Now that she had shown him that contract, Cato knew he couldn't just sit around and wait for things to pass. If learning to be a solider and being an image for the rebellion was going to help Peeta's safety come quicker, then he'd have to do just that.

"I need an answer, Cato," Coin said impaitently. "Will you be the Mockingjay?"

The answer was obvious. Cato nodded. "Yes. I will."

**A/N: Again, sorry for taking so long. **

**Please R&R! ^_^**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Peeta held the duvet close to his chest, covering whatever decency he had left. Hunter lay beside him, fast asleep, satisfied with the time they spent together. The man's wealth was obvious. His bedroom was extravagant, his house filled with expensive metals and costly furniture. Even the covers they currently sat in were made of lavish silk, the material soft and a bit slippery. Even though the Capitol man had done whatever he could to make him comfortable, Peeta wanted nothing more than to leave.

His lower back was aching, even the slightest movements making it scream in agony. Hunter wasn't a gentle lover, that was for sure. He liked it hard and fast. A feat Peeta learned the hard way. At least he had managed to switch himself off while it was happening, leaving just the smallest part of him still alert so he could moan on cue and plead for release when told to. He hadn't realized he could be so close and yet so far away at the same time, but he was glad that he discovered that he could because he could do it now every time someone bought him from Snow.

The weird thing was, Peeta felt more vulnerable now, in the aftermath, than he had while actually getting fucked by Hunter. Maybe it was the fact that he had to sit in an unfamiliar bed, naked, unable to sleep because of his alien surroundings and the fear that Hunter will try something if he lay down beside the man and he woke up. He had always hated being naked, even long before Mya had kidnapped him, and he only ever did it when necessary. If he looked in the mirror, he could always find something wrong, whether it be a layer of baby fat when he was younger or a complexion that made him look like he was severely ill.

Sitting up for too long made the ache in his back grow and his bad leg was beginning to join in the harmony of pain as well. Reluctant to give in, Peeta forced himself to continue to sit for as long as possible and when he had no other choice but to lie down, he positioned himself at the very edge of the bed, putting as much distance between himself and Hunter as possible.

He didn't like the feeling of silk against his skin, it was too exorbitant. He prefered the trustworthy embrace of soft cotton, not the sickly smooth caress of the red silk. The material didn't provide any warmth and Peeta couldn't help shivering, wondering how Hunter could bear sleeping in an environment like this one in the winter months. Thankfully, when he lay down the pain in his leg eased. But his back continued to scream in pain, regardless to what position he lay in.

Hunter stirred and Peeta stiffened, shutting his eyes and pretending to be asleep. He even pretended to snore a little bit to add to the effect. His heart started beating in his chest like a startled rabbit's, his blood beating in his ears as he fought not to give any hint that he was awake.

The bed dipped as the man sat up on his elbow to watch what he thought was the sleeping form of his bought lover. "What are you doing all the way over there?" he asked quietly, more to himself than to Peeta. Peeta held his breath when Hunter came closer, so his breath brushed his arm every time he breathed out, fighting not to react when he felt a hand laid on his bare side. "I could look after you way better than those two idiots."

Hunter might have thought this but Peeta did not agree. To the people of the Capitol, sex was the only way to 'take care' of people. They didn't consider kindness or care. The hand on his side slid down along the curve of his hip, resting just above the ugly scar on his thigh. Peeta tried not to wince when Hunter brushed his thumb along the damaged skin, glad that at least the Capitol man hadn't asked where it came from when he first tugged his underwear off and saw it there.

Lips gently touched his shoulder. Once, twice, a third time. Peeta stayed still, breathing evenly and trying not to make a sound. As Hunter gently 'woke' him and let the hand on his hip slowly slide into dangerous territory, Peeta wondered what Cato was doing right that moment . . . hopefully he was okay. That's all he wanted. For Cato to be okay.

~xXx~

"You have shit aim."

Cato gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to punch Harold in the mouth. He was good at listening to instructions, it was like being in career training again. He just couldn't hold the gun properly. Harold-who was ironically in the same lesson as him-could hit the middle of the target with every single shot he took whereas Cato himself was falling short.

"You're holding it wrong," Harold insisted. "You're holding a semi auto handgun, you need to use a high hand grip."

"Oh, like you're the expert?" Cato demanded. Their instructor was out, away to talk to his superiors about something. The class consisted of a couple of other rebels, nobody Cato knew personally. Anyone above the age of 13 was old enough to start to train to be a solider. He was surprised when he found out that Kayla was even learning how to shoot a gun, since she was fourteen now. He didn't like the idea of his sister becoming a solider but Harold pointed out that if she finished her training with Prim, she might just become an army medic.

"Use the high hand grip and see how it goes," Harold said, rolling his eyes.

Cato sighed and changed how he gripped the gun. When he squeezed the trigger and the bullet blasted out, it still missed the target by a mile. "See, it doesn't matter what grip I use!" he exclaimed.

Harold fired another bullet, which hit the middle of the target for what felt like the thousanth time. "Okay, how about you try and imagine that the dummy is Snow." He pointed to the dummy that was also available for target practice. "It's how I improved my practice. I also pretended it was my father but that's a completely different story."

Cato glanced at Harold out of the corner of his eye. Why would Harold want to shoot his father? Shaking his head and deciding not to ask, Cato lifted the gun again and focused on the dummy. He concentrated hard, conjuring up an image of President Snow in his head and letting the anger that was always coupled with the thought brew inside him. When he squeezed the trigger and the gun fired, the bullet pierced right between the eyes of the dummy.

"Well, you're supposed to hit the heart," Harold said. "But between the eyes would probably do the job rightly."

"Heart would be to quick," Cato concluded. "The bastard deserves it between the eyes."

Harold nodded. "I suppose," he replied. He busied himself re-loading his gun, his experience from previously working for Snow making him more aware on how to handle and shoot a weapon. Cato remembered something he said in the hospital ward, about having an idea about what Snow was going to do to Peeta. Something he refused to tell him about. Cato understood why the Capitol man had decided to keep the information from him. Even after agreeing to play to his schedule and be the Mockingjay, he had to immediately take some of his pills to calm himself down or he'd have done something stupid like punched Coin in the face.

"I know now," Cato said. "About what Snow is planning to do to Peeta. I know all about it. It's what Coin wanted to talk to me about. That and being the Mockingjay."

Harold paused and looked at Cato through the hairs that had fell into his face. "Oh, do you now?" he asked. He sounded unconvinced. Why didn't he believe him?

"Yeah . . . Snow is going to _sell_ him, right?" Cato whispered the last word, as if he said it as quietly as possible it would make it less true. "I understand why you didn't tell me about it but Coin says if we keep doing what we're doing then the closer we get to rescuing him-"

"That's not it," Harold said. He was frowning, as if he didn't completely understand what Cato was saying.

The statement made Cato pause. "What do you mean, 'that's not it'? Coin showed me the document. It was like a contract or something, waiting to be signed by a citizen," he said. "Visual evidence. Why, what do you know?"

Harold pointed his gun and fired at the target, hitting the middle. "I told you, I'm not going to say."

Cato grabbed the nozzle of Harold's gun and pushed it towards the floor. He knew it was a dangerous thing to do but thankfully he hadn't fired another shot at the time. "Don't keep things from me regarding Peeta, Harold," Cato said. "Tell me, what do you know and what is Coin not telling me?"

"Coin doesn't know either," Harold said calmly. "I'm sure if she knew she would have used the knowledge to blackmail you further."

"_Blackmail_? I think I would have noticed if she was blackmailing me!" Cato snapped.

Harold chuckled, his amusement making Cato clench the nozzle of the gun harder in anger. "You _think_ that but it's just how she does things," he said. "She makes you think that you're talking as if you're on the same plain of thought when in reality she's about ten steps ahead every time."

"Woods, tell me what you know!"

"Cato, I can't." Harold's eyes gleamed with salt water . . . Tears? "I'm not going to do that to you."

"Just tell me for god's sake!"

Harold pulled the gun out Cato's hands. "Does it matter? The more time we waste, the more time Peeta's in the Capitol. Let's just get on and get closer to the rescue, as you say."

Cato didn't like that Harold was so determined not to tell him what he knew. It couldn't be any worse than what he already knew about Capitol punishment.

Right?

~xXx~

"What's that?" Hunter didn't answer. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, fiddling with something Peeta couldn't see. "Hunter, what are you doing?"

"Just what Snow told me to," Hunter answered.

Peeta clutched the covers tighter to his chest, feeling exhausted from having to edure another three times since the man woke up. He felt like he wasn't going to be able to sit down for weeks. "Wh-What did Snow tell you to do?" Hunter turned back around and Peeta could finally see what was in his hands. A syringe filled with turqouise liquid. Peeta's stomach churned at the sight of it. He didn't know what the hell was going on but he did know that it wasn't going to end well for him. "Why do you have that?"

Hunter tried to grab his arm but Peeta pulled it away. The man sighed. "Look, don't be difficult, I'm just doing what I've been paid to. You're still a traitor, you know."

"Paid? _You're_ the one who paid," Peeta answered, his heart beating a thousand times a second.

Hunter chuckled. Peeta didn't like that the man was amused by what he had said. He leaned back when Hunter climbed back onto the bed and tried to grab his arm a second time. "Don't worry," he said, "it won't hurt. Too much." Peeta wasn't fast enough the third time and Hunter got a firm hold of his arm.

"Let go!" Peeta snapped, trying to wrench his arm away. Hunter's grip was too strong though and he watched helplessly as he pressed the tip of the needle against his arm. Against the exact same injection site that Mya used to use. "What this that?! Tell me! What did Snow tell you to do?"

"Your boyfriend doesn't love you," Hunter answered.

"What are you talking ab-OW!"

Hunter pushed down on the plunger of the syringe, injecting the liquid into his arm. Peeta yanked his arm away and Hunter let him, a satisified smirk on his face. He tried to scramble off the bed but Hunter grabbed his hair and yanked him back, pinning him to the mattress with a hand pressed firmly against his chest. Peeta struggled, his instincts kicking into overdrive and his heart feeling like it was going to burst. He feared what Hunter was going to do, expecting him to try hurt him in one way or another.

But he didn't. Instead Hunter just kept him pinned there and started talking. "Cato never loved you, he only claimed you because he wanted a virginal blond to have as a fuck toy."

"Why are you saying this?" Peeta's vision blurred and his thoughts ran together, confusing him. He felt drowsy and his head started to severely hurt. "W-W-Why are you l-l-l-lying?"

"He raped you repeatedly from when he claimed you to now," Hunter continued regardless of Peeta's confusion. "He was going to kill you but then decided he'd use you for his pleasure instead." Peeta wanted to deny it but when he shut his eyes and tried to piece it together, he couldn't. Everything was slipping and sliding again, like it had when he had been kidnapped. Cato wouldn't do that . . . Or would he? "I'm Hunter, I'm your friend. Snow is your step father and he loves you very much."

Peeta felt the liquid he'd been injected with seep through his bones and start to wrap around his brain and heart. "I don't . . ." he didn't know what to say as every piece of his mind started to chip away. He wanted to grasp his memories, hold them tight, keep them close. He didn't want to lose it again. He couldn't lose it again! "What did you do to me! What did he tell you to do to me?!" he screamed. "What did all of you do to me?!" He didn't just mean Hunter. He meant Hunter and Snow and Semira and Mya and everyone who has ever meddled with his mind.

The drug clutched his heart and held it tight, his mind blurring even more. Throughout Hunter kept talking.

_"Cato doesn't love you."_

_"He just wanted your body."_

_"Harold was the one who cared about you."_

_"The Capitol cares about you."_

_"Snow and Semira loves you. Emily needs you."_

_"Mya is your aunt." _

_"Cato tried to kill your family. He suceeded in killing your brother Wheat."_

_"Cato doesn't love you."_

_"He never loved you."_

_"None of them did."_

"He couldn't even control himself in the arena and raped you on the beach in front of thousands upon millions of people."

Peeta tried to deny it all but the more Hunter insisted and the more the drug consumed him, the more he began to believe what the man from the Capitol was telling him. He fought it with every ounce of strength he had but it was stronger. It had always been stronger than him. He had never been able to fight it. Images even started forming, memories of things that we know didn't happen but Peeta did not.

Fifty minutes later, the drug broke him and he dissolved into tears.

Hunter pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back comfortingly and telling him it was going to be okay. Peeta wrapped his arms around his friend and cried into his neck, unable to stop crying. He felt like he had been trapped underwater and had broken the surface, finally able to breath again. "Oh my god Hunter," he sobbed. "You saved me. Thank you so much. I don't know what that monster did to me but I forgot all about you and Snow and my mom and-" He gasped for breath-"and I forgot that Cato was such a perverted bastard."

"It's okay now," Hunter said softly, stroking Peeta's hair affectionately. "You're safe, you're okay."

"He killed my brother!" Peeta yelled angrily, tears streaking down his cheeks. "He murdered Wheat!"

"Sssh, it's okay," Hunter hushed. He kissed the top of Peeta's head and stroked his back gently. "It's all going to be okay." He pulled back and showed Peeta the syringe. "We don't know what Hadley has done to you so you must inject yourself with this. It is developed from the venom of tracker jackers, reversed to help you regain your memory. You must read the notes that I'm going to give you as you inject yourself so the truth will begin to engrave itself in your memory again."

Peeta nodded and sniffed, taking the syringe from Hunter. "Okay," he whispered. "I will." He looked and Hunter. "Can you take me back to my Mom and Dad? I want to say sorry."

Hunter nodded. "Of course. But they already know."

Peeta slipped off the bed and started collecting his clothes. He felt like such a fool. Everything felt so much clearer now. Like a blindfold had been pulled off his eyes. He could see the truth. And, even though it was painful, he had to learn to accept it.

Harold was the one who loved him.

His mom and dad loved him. Emily needed him.

Wheat was dead.

Because of Cato.

_Cato._

Peeta felt hatred bubble up inside him and he grinded his teeth togther angrily. Cato. The digusting monster that he was. He hated him. He hated him so, so much. And he would never forgive him for what he did.

In fact, next time he saw him, he was going to kill him.

**A/N: Please don't hate me guys! :O**

**Please R&R! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! I know you all hate me right now (sorry!) but this is a filler chapter that explains what Hunter has done to Peeta under Snow's orders with some twists I hope you guys didn't expect.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games**

Chapter Four

_"Did it work?"_

Hunter nodded, twirling the empty syringe around between his fingers. Mya's whiteboard sat between them, the markings of the green pen standing out against the plain white material. "Yes," he said. "It did. Peeta is with his family. Erm, his 'family'." The second time he said the word, he used sarcastic finger gestures. Mya nodded. Hunter would have thought that she had been happy to hear that the plan had worked but she seemed neutral, unimpressed. "It's odd, it only took fifty minutes."

Mya took up the pen, wiping it clean with her sleeve. _"That is expected. He has been exposed to tracker jacker posion before. His system is vulnerable to it."_

"Tracker jacker poison is hard to come by," Hunter stated. "I'm not questioning how Snow got his hands on the venom himself but if you're saying that he has been exposed to it before, who exposed him to it?"

Mya chewed on her lip, knawing on a loose piece of skin._ "Me."_

Hunter stared at the red headed woman. They sat across from each other at a table in one of the many dining rooms in Snow's mansion. It had been nearly two years since they had spoken to each other and even though they used to know each other like the back of their hands, there was now an awkward air between them that they couldn't shift no matter how hard they tried. "You?" he asked in disbelief.

_"Don't you remember? Those nights in the basement hoking the kid up so he'd trust us?"_ Mya asked. _"I wasn't kidding when I said I had a guy."_

Hunter didn't remember much from his old life. Only what he was told. A part of him wished that Snow hadn't resurrected him. It was a process that still had glitches. Even six months later, Hunter still experienced twitches and sharp stabs of pain, the wires in his head and body sometimes sparking and snapping. "I barely remember anything, Mya, you know that."

Mya rolled her eyes. _"Okay, well, you remember trying to convince Peeta that I was his aunt?"_

Hunter frowned. "Vaguely."

_"Things like that doesn't just happen. It wasn't like Peeta was a tender age when his mother gave him to us. An age where we could tell him something and he'd believe it. Like four or five years old. But he wasn't. He was fifteen. To convince a fifteen year old of something of such magnitude, you need some help. So we injected him with tracker jacker venom. Not a great lot but enough to convince him that I was really his aunt,"_ Mya explained._ "Even when he was taken away and went to through the therapy sessions that told him that I wasn't, his system was officially diagnosed as vulnerable. It will be vulnerable for the rest of his life."_

Hunter pieced the new information together in his head. It made sense. Any victim of tracker jacker venom-the ones lucky enough to survive-would forever be vulnerable to the poison. "So Snow thought it would be smart to re-use the venom to control his thoughts and change who he was altogether?" he asked.

_"Is that disgust I hear in your voice, Mort? When did you become so sentimental?"_

"I'm not Mort anymore," Hunter said sharply. "Don't call me that." The feeling of his name as he said it made a wire spring loose in his neck. His head twitched violently. Mya didn't react, knowing herself that the wires hooking her old partner up to life were still untrustworthy and unreliable.

_"Sorry."_

Hunter knew she wasn't one bit sorry.

"So Snow came up with this grand plan to turn Peeta into another person, to believe different things and make out that Cato has been the one trying to conform him into false beliefs?" Hunter asked. "I don't understand why I had to pretend to be a buyer."

_"The venom can induce nightmares, realistic visions of things that didn't happen but seem real. But the nightmares are formed with images of things that have happened to the victim before. We coudln't rely on the memories of things Harold Woods have done to him because since the man's MEA has been cured he has been treating Peeta better. It wouldn't have worked. We needed more memories, something that could come in his dreams and scare him, to make it seem more real."_

"Wouldn't the dream then be of me doing the stuff to him?"

_"Because everything gets mixed up and jumbled, your image will be replaced with Cato's. It will be heightened to the point where he'll think that the nightmares are of Cato hurting him. Raping him. It will convince him even more that what the venom is trying to covince him is true."_

Hunter rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was always tired now-a-days. Snow told him he'd be tired. An effect of the wires. "Will Snow tell me the truth, now? Of my life before the resurrection? He promised," he said.

Mya brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. _"Your life was nothing before the resurrection, you know that. All you were was an accomplice, an assistant of mine who kidnapped kids to sell them as sex slaves. Before that you were nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Don't worry about the before when you can live in the after."_

"What about my family? My loved ones? Friends? _Anything_?" Hunter insisted. "You were my boss, you had to know something."

Mya shook her head and wrote more out on the board. _"You came to me because you had no one."_

Hunter's eyes slid to stare at the mahogany table. "That's what I feared," he said quietly.

Mya laughed. Hunter's eyes widened in horror. What an ugly sound!

_"Cheer up,"_ she wrote._ "Things can only get better from now."_

Another wire slipped and Hunter's right eye twitched. "Yeah, I guess," he said, unconvinced. "So what do we do now?" His eyes were focusing solely on the table, on the smooth surface that screamed expense. When he looked back up, Mya's board was wiped clean. Except for three words.

_"We get on."_

~xXx~

"Hello Emily, hey baby girl."

Emily giggled at her big brother, tugging on his sleeve and sucking her fingers. She was a beautiful little girl, all blond curls and wide smiles. Peeta couldn't believe he had once thought that she had been poisoned by what he had thought was the evil of his mother.

"We're so happy that you're better now," his mom said. She sat on the edge of the sofa and handed him his syringe. When he took it, she told him, "For quicker results, inject it into the neck."

Peeta nodded and tapped the tube, ridding it of air bubbles. As he pressed the needle into the vein in his neck, Auntie Mya came into the room with Hunter following close behind. Mya was wearing a smile but Hunter actually looked somber for some reason. When he pushed the plunger down and the drug went into his system, Mya lifted the board in her hands and wrote, _"How's it all going, champ? Are the drugs helping?"_

"Yeah," Peeta replied, gritting his teeth through the pain. More images flashed into his mind. Most of them of Cato, the man he thought he loved. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to fight through it. It was difficult. There really wasn't a set amount of times you can watch someone you thought loved you kill your brother before you get used to it.

His mom sighed and brushed her hand through his hair. "How are the nightmares, sweetie?" she asked.

"Getting better." This was a lie, of course. They seemed to be getting worse rather than better. Memories kept resurfacing of things Cato used to do to him that he couldn't remember until now. It never got easy, seeing him like that. There was still a small part of him that ached for his ex-partner. But it was dominated by the part that wanted to kill him for everything he had done.

"You know your family and I will always be here to help you if you need us," Semira told him. "You know that, don't you?"

"I do," Peeta replied, fiddling with the pieces of carpet by the fireplace. "Just . . . sometimes it's hard to accept. Everything I thought was true was wrong. I can't believe Cato would do such things to me."

"I know but that's what tracker jacker poison does to you." Semira smoothed his hair down and straightened his collar. "It makes you believe things that aren't true. When Mr Hadley discovered that Snow was onto him about what he was doing to you, he started drugging you with the poison so that if a peacekeeper ever stopped you and asked about how you're being treated. He convinced you that he had chosen you in 12 out of an act of love, a need for closeness and intimacy. He made you think you were in love so if he was ever in danger of being arrested, you wouldn't sell him out as a domestic abuser."

Peeta nodded, believing every word his mother told him. Why would she lie to him?

_"We know this is all very hard to accept,"_ Mya wrote. _"But it's okay, these things take time."_

Peeta looked up from the carpet at his aunt. The drug was still swirling in his veins but as he stared at Mya, a voice crept into the back of his head. _"She's not your aunt!"_ His hand went to his neck, cupping the spot where he'd stuck the needle in. "When can I take my next dosage?" he asked.

"A few hours," Hunter answered. "Why, is something wrong?"

"Did Cato try to convince me that Mya wasn't my auntie?" Peeta asked, a frown furrowing onto his features.

A pause followed that seemed to go on forever.

Semira nodded. "Yes, he did," she said. "He hated her. It's why he mutilated her the way he did. She came to 2 to visit you and caught him hitting you. She wanted to tell the authorities but he knocked her out and cut out her tongue so she couldn't. He's a physchopath."

Peeta closed his eyes and exhaled. "I'm so sorry, Mya," he said, turning to his auntie. "I'm sorry that I thought I loved him." He heard the board marker squeaking and he opened his eyes to see what she had written.

_"It's okay. As long as you're getting better, I'll be fine."_

"I am. I promise," Peeta told her.

"We're all here for you," Semira said. "We all love you very much. And we're going to take care of you. I promise."

~xXx~

Harold slumped in his seat, his thumb rubbing over the _Wednesday_ print ontop of his pill containter. Everything was so complicated. His neck itched and he scratched the old injection site. A part of him wished to forget the days of poison but the knowledge of what Snow was going to do to Peeta brought it all back to him. The syringe of turqouise liquid, the needle, the pain of the drug.

When he was five, his mother was killed in the street riot that was soon to be known as 'The Riot of HG 50." After the 50th Hunger Games, when Haymitch Abernathy used the force field to kill the last girl standing, the entire District 1 went into disarray, claiming injustice that their tribute had been killed by a fault and that it shouldn't count. His mother had been in the crowd watching the Games outside and was trampled in the fray.

After that, he and his father moved to the Capitol, where their relationship immediately went on the rocks. They didn't get along at all. They always yelled at each other, both of them fuelled by the grief of his mother's death. Harold wondered if that was why his father did what he did. Because there was always a part of him that blamed his son for what happened his mother.

Being an experiment child wasn't as bad as it sounded, in the end. Snow tested all sorts of things out on him. The biggest one being tracker jacker venom. It was one of the reasons he ended up being diagonsed with the MEA. Because when the experimenting stopped, his body wasn't used to it and everything that could go wrong, did. Flu, scarlet fever, penumonia, at one point even a suspicion of Cancer. He got cured of it all but the one that stayed was the MEA, which Snow then used against him, forcing him to use it as a weapon against the people he was out to get.

He wasn't a pedaphile, that was a backstory Snow wrote for him. Something that made him come off as the bad guy in everything. He hadn't went to 12 looking for a child to buy and use as a slave, he had been sent there by Snow to find out if there really was funny business going on in the outskirts of the District. To find out the truth about the missing children. Harold was _not_ a pervert. He _wasn't_. But who would believe that, anyway? It all sounded so far fetched.

Harold knew that they were going to do this to Peeta. He didn't know in what pretences they were going to use the venom in or what they were going to try and convince Peeta of, but he knew it wasn't going to be good. And it was going to involve Cato in one way or another. Because that's what Snow did. He manipulated people to fit his mould of perfect and anyone who didn't fit was either adjusted or terminated. It was an idea, an idea the president hoped to make real in the next thirty to forty years. It was why he had been looking for people willing to be experiments in the first place. Why Harold's father had sold him to become an experiment child.

He couldn't bear the idea of Peeta going through what he had. And, even if they ever did rescue him, then they could never take him off the venom. Never. Because if they did, he was at great risk of developing the illness that Harold had. But in 13 they didn't have the medical faculities to treat such illnesses and it was a 90/10 change that Peeta would die within five months of being taken off.

There was no way out.

No way out at all.

**A/N: If you're confused by anything (something tells me a few might be confused about Hunter and his identity) more will be revealed as the story continues. So bear with it, okay? (:**

**Please R&R! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: You guys hate me. I'm sorry but I did tell you that this wasn't going to be a smooth sailing story! :(**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Five

Cato had been called to a meeting in the Command Room. There weren't many people there, just Coin, Plutarch, Haymitch, Harold, himself and Finnick. Maybe they were the best 13 had to offer? Cato knew the only reason he was here was because he was the Mockingjay. If Peeta had been in 13, he doubted he would be part of this meeting at all.

"We're in trouble," was the first thing out of Coin's mouth.

That can't be good.

"How much trouble?" Harold asked.

"Big trouble," Coin clarified. She looked very calm and collected for a woman who had just announced that they were in big trouble. "If you would direct your attention to the screen." She lifted a remote and flicked the screen at the top of the room on, not even bothering to look at it as if she had seen it a thousand times before.

The screen flickered to life and the Capitol seal appeared with, _This is a Capitol approved message_, stamped below it.

Then Peeta appeared.

It felt like Cato hadn't seen him in years. His heart skipped a beat and he fought to hide his joy at seeing him again, staying impasse. Peeta looked so _happy_. He was healthy and beautiful, smiling like wasn't a Capitol prisoner. Cato couldn't believe how comfortable his partner looked and how confident he sounded when he started speaking, talking about stopping the war and letting the Capitol take control again. What was he _doing_? Why would he speak for the wrong side of the war?

The worst thing was, he was _good_. His words weren't scripted but believable, convincing but not fake. Cato found himself rethinking everything at least twice during Peeta's speech.

Half way through, Coin paused the video. "This was broadcast live everywhere last night," she said. "Every single District and every single corner of the Capitol. And they're _listening_ to him."

Harold got out of his seat and wandered over to the screen. He stood there, staring at the paused image of Peeta with intense fixation. Cato wondered what the hell he was doing, it wasn't a time to be fixating on Peeta, even if he did steal a couple of glances himself, relieved that he was healthy and well.

"Is he betraying us?" Finnick asked.

"He wouldn't do that," Cato snapped, irritated that Finnick would even consider something like that. Something had to be wrong. Peeta wouldn't just conform to Snow's side like that. He just . . . _wouldn't._

"Yeah, tell him that," Finnick said, gesturing at the screen.

"We need to start on our propos and fast," Coin said. "There's already another planned programme tonight at seven and if it's even half as convincing as this one I don't know how long we've got before people start rethinking everything."

Harold stepped back from the screen, his face grief. "Just as I thought," he muttered.

"What?" Cato asked. "What is it?"

"Look at the iris of his left eye," Harold said, snatching Coin's remote off the table and zooming in on Peeta's eyes. At first, Cato couldn't see it, just the ordinary baby blue that used to always make his heart flutter. But on second glance, it was there. There was the tiniest of slithers of turquoise-green dyed into the blue.

"What is that?" Cato asked, pushing out of his seat and moving to stand beside Harold.

The Capitol man didn't answer, instead zoomed back out and examined the picture for anything else. Cato looked as well and was shocked when he spotted it before Harold did. On Peeta's neck, just missing his juglar, was a spot. Like a pinprick. Or an injection site.

"Tell me what you know about this!" Cato exclaimed, pointing at the pinprick.

Harold stayed silent.

"Harold, tell me!"

"I can't," Harold said quietly.

President Coin stood up. "As of right now, Peeta Mellark is an official traitor and when we win this war, he will be publicly executed along with Snow and the other traitors."

"_Excuse_ me?!" Cato yelled. "I thought he was your goddamn Mockingjay!"

"Obviously not anymore," Coin simply answered. "He has made it clear, who's side he's on."

~xXx~

_He deserves to know._

_He deserves to know._

_He deserves to know._

Harold kept repeating this mantra to himself as he walked down the seemingly endless line of dorm rooms. Was Cato's number 45 or 54? Or was it 67 . . . Harold shook his head, trying his best to pull himself together before came face to face with Cato. He had to seem strong and together when he told him. If Cato was going to take a fit, then he had to be the one that stayed strong. Two broken men were not going to helpful, especially since they both had a tendancy to be violent when they were upset.

Cato was in number 33. Harold felt stupid that he had forgotten. But the feeling was quickly replaced with fear as he knocked once on the door before pushing it open. Thankfully, the former career was just in the middle of taking his pills when Harold came in. At least that meant that he wasn't going to go bi-polar about all of this. Then again, maybe what he was about to tell him was beyond medication's aid.

"What is it Harold?" Cato asked. He sounded tired. Harold didn't blame him, he was probably still mad at him for not saying what he knew earlier at the Command meeting.

"I've decided to tell you . . ." Harold began, trailing off as he thought about how he was actually going to go about telling Cato about Peeta. "I've decided to tell you about what they're doing to Peeta . . ."

The mere mention of his name had Cato listening. Harold could immediately tell by the snap of his head and how he had ditched trying to fix a broken window on his pill box. "What's with the change of heart?" he asked.

"Erm . . ." _I decided it wasn't my place to keep it a secret?_ "I decided you deserve to know."

Cato threw his pill box onto the bed. "I'm listening," he said.

"Okay . . . well . . ." Harold fought to find the words. "You see . . ." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and shut the door tight behind him. "I was an experiment kid, when I was younger. My father sold me away when my mom died and Snow would try out all these crazy things on me. Like serums and stuff. One of the things he tried was a serum extracted from the venom of tracker jacker stings."

"Right," Cato said slowly. "Is there a point to this story?"

"I'm getting to it," Harold replied. "It would make you believe things that aren't true. Snow tried convincing _me_ that I had always lived in the Capitol, which wasn't right because I'm born and bred District 1. But I believed it anyway because the venom told me it was true. I wish I had been stronger and had been able to fight it. But I wasn't. I doubt anyone really is."

"And you're saying, what? That you have a tragic past? What's this got to do with Peeta?" Cato asked. Harold knew that Cato wasn't trying to be rude, he was just desperate to know what they were doing to Peeta in the Capitol. Still didn't mean it didn't sting a little bit.

"Eventually the venom wears off but Snow still uses it as a punishment technique," Harold explained. "Mya even used it in her slavery business to convince her captives that . . . that she was their aunt."

Realization finally dawned on Cato. "So you're saying that Mya used this venom on Peeta then?" he said. "That's why he was so convinced she was his aunt? But that doesn't make sense, since as you say the venom wears off."

"The venom only wears off if you aren't exposed to too high a dosage. Mya is far from a nurse and in my opinion she was two steps away from overdosing Peeta when he was fifteen," Harold said. "And now that he's in the Capitol, if he's exposed to it again then it might leave a permanant imprint."

"_Permanant?_"

"Yeah."

"And what is it you think Snow is trying to convince him, then?" Cato asked.

Harold shrugged, his eyes looking around the room. They landed on several parts of the 13 regulated room but never on Cato. He couldn't bear to look him in the eye. "It's just a hunch but . . . but I think he's going to try and turn him into one of his Capitol drones. Like Mya and Hunter and Semira and Emily, etc."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who the hell is Hunter and Semira and Emily?" Cato asked incredulously, only recognizing Mya's name.

"Oh right, you don't know them. Uh, well, Hunter is Mya's partner. Well, a resurrected version anyway," Harold explained. "When the peacekeepers busted their business in 12, Mya's partner in crime Mort was shot and killed. And the only reason Mya agreed to help Snow was if he brought Mort back."

"That's impossible. You can't cheat death," Cato said.

"When I say 'resurrected' I don't mean we put Mort's body onto a stone slab and chanted until his spirit returned to his body or any of that voodoo crap. I mean Snow's scientists brought him back to life through science. Inside his body is completely wired up. Like a robot or a computer." Harold saw Cato's expression and sighed. "I'm not joking! Sometimes the wires slip and he jerks or twitches."

"Is that even possible?!" Cato exclaimed.

"In the Capitol, who knows what's _im_possible," Harold answered. "Hunter doesn't remember much of being Mort but it will come back to him. And when it does Mya will have her partner back and he will be the disgusting, sleazy Capitolite he had been before the resurrection. Oh, and Semira is Peeta's mother. Her death was staged ages ago-"

"You told me she really died," Cato interuppted.

"I didn't know you well enough to tell you the truth then," Harold replied. "You were still some annoying career trying to take Peeta off me back then. I don't think I even trusted you then."

Cato rolled his eyes, knowing that he didn't really trust Harold too much back then either but not admitting it. "What about this Emily girl then?"

"Snow and Semira's child," Harold explained. "She was born just when my experiments stopped. Spoilt bratt, really."

Cato sat down on the edge of his bed, trying to consume all of this new information. "How do you know all this?" he finally questioned.

Harold busied himself with pulling a loose thread off his sleeve as he spoke. "Snow trusted me. I don't know why but he did. I suppose it's because of how long I'd been in his care. It took a lot of work but I managed to work my way through the ranks to become his right hand man. He told me everything then and even sent me away on missions and jobs. Jobs I didn't mind doing, really, as long as I wasn't being experimented on anymore."

"You didn't mind doing the jobs, even when they were as disgusting as pretending to be in love with someone who couldn't stand the sight of you?" Cato asked.

"It wasn't fun, I'll admit that," Harold said, "but it was better than being strapped to a cold table wondering what they were going to stick in me next and what it was going to do to me."

Cato was silent. He tried to imagine what something like that would be like but he didn't get it. He supposed it was something that only the people who went through it would understand. Sometimes he didn't really appreciate how easy a life he had had until now. "I really think we got off on the wrong foot, Harold," he finally said. He looked at the misunderstood Capitol man and sighed. "I think we should start again."

Harold nodded. "I think that too."

Cato stood up again and held out his hand. "Hey," he said, "I'm Cato."

Harold took the hand. "And I'm Harold." That hadn't went as bad as he thought it was going to. At least that was one thing. A silver lining in a sea of darkness.

~xXx~

Seven o'clock came pretty fast.

A part of Cato didn't want to watch but when Coin called the Command group back so they could examine the footage, he knew he had no choice. He supposed it was a good thing he had made amends with Harold as it assured him that there was at least one other person going through the same thing as him.

Peeta looked the same in the new footage as he had in the one from the previous day. Healthy, well, happy. On the outside anyway. Who knew what inner termoil he was suffering because of the tracker jacker venom Harold described. But he still spoke with ease, discussing the possibility of a ceasefire and the effects the war was having on the Districts.

"Something's different," Harold murmured, so quietly only Cato could hear it. He was right, something _was_ different. Peeta's eyes were glazed over, the turquoise slither in the left iris much larger as it had been before.

"Why is it like that?" Cato whispered.

"He needs another dosage. He's missed one," Harold answered. He sounded fearful. "Why has he missed one?"

"Is it bad to miss one?"

"It can be dangerous, yes."

"How dangerous?"

"Very."

Cato was about to ask another question when Harold held up his hand. "What is it?" he hissed.

"He's stopped talking."

They both looked back at the screen, where the others hadn't stopped watching. Peeta's eyes were squeezed shut and he looked in pain. A millisecond later, he opened them and the entire left iris had turned turquoise. Cato vaguely heard Harold swear beside him. Peeta looked at the ground, almost confused, before looking back up at the camera. "Cato . . ." he whispered, under his breath. As if saying his name was a trigger of some sort, his face twisted into panic and he screamed, "Cato, you have to get out of there they're going to bomb 13! You have to run! Get out of there!"

Someone behind the camera yelled, "Cut the camera!"

Peeta continued regardless. "You have to to get out of 13 before they kill you! You have to!" As he spoke, the camera got knocked over and all Cato could see was feet. His heart was beating so fast his blood vessels couldn't keep up. What did he mean? The Capitol was going to bomb 13? They were going to kill him?

"Someone hold him down!" A voice clearly recognizable as President Snow yelled. The feet cleared out of the way as Mya appeared and dragged Peeta to the ground, still screaming for Cato to run. She could barely hold him down but when an unfamiliar blonde woman straddled him and handed Mya a needle, the struggles seemed fruitless.

Mya uncapped the needle and the blonde woman grabbed Peeta's throat to hold him in place. He tried to unseat her from him but it didn't work. Mya stabbed the needle into his neck and pushed all the liquid inside into him. Peeta screamed, like the pain was unbearable, before falling limp. Lifeless as a rag doll.

Cato was horrified. He couldn't even speak.

"Did the Districts see that?" Finnick asked Coin when everything cut off and was left on static.

Coin frowned at the tablet in her hands, tapping away to find out. "No. The footage was cut off to all Districts a second after the break down. And there's a five second delay so I doubt anyone saw it."

"Why did they keep it going in 13 then?" Finnick asked.

"Who knows."

Cato knew. They wanted him to see it. He pushed out of his seat and left the room, unable to bear sitting there a second longer. "Mr Hadley, get back here, we need to start evacuation poceedues!" Coin yelled after him. He didn't hear her. All he could hear was Peeta's screams. Harold was the one who caught up with him. But he didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Sensing this, Harold stuck a needle into his arm, a needle full of sedative.

The darkness was unwelcome. But at least he couldn't hear the screams there.

**A/N: I'm sorry if you guys hate me. But I never said this fic was going to be easy. It even pains me to write it but it has to be done :/ **

**Please R&R anyway?**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The screaming was piercing, stretching out the length of the entire prison. In a cell at the very end, Johanna Mason stood dripping in water, pressed against the door defiantly, fighting to not give them what they wanted. She could hear the screaming from where she stood, the sound distant but twice as heartbreaking. She recognized the voice all to well.

The electric prod touched her skin.

Her voice joined the screams.

Annie Cresta was already part of it, her knuckles rubbing the skin of her forehead until it was raw as she tried to scream the pain and madness away.

Ava Green's voice wanted to get out but her lack of tongue wouldn't allow it. Her throat was raw and bleeding, a squeaky, scratchy sound being the only thing to come out. Tears leaked out of the corners, streaking down her cheeks and dripping off her face. Yesterday was supposed to be her fourteenth birthday. She wondered if her family remembered, where-ever they were.

And at the very top of the corridor, Semira Mellark stood outside the door of the biggest cell, picking at her nails. Inside Mya and Hunter were frantically mixing narcotics, trying to stop their captive from his confused yelling.

"Cato, run!" Eyes squeezed shut, face contorted. "Don't run Cato, burn in hell like you deserve!" Back arched, frenzied thrashing. "I love you Cato so, so much!" Heart wrenching scream. "I hope you die a painful death you selfish bastard!" Uncontrollable sobbing. "I don't understand, Cato, h-h-h-h-help me!"

_"This is your fault!" _Mya wrote. _"I told you that forgetting to give him his dosages could be leathal!"_

"Actually, you didn't," Hunter told her. "You just expected me to know!"

Mya rolled her eyes and bent over the boy struggling against his bindings. She grabbed his eyelid and forced it open, ignoring his screams of protest. The entire iris was turqourise now, only a slither of blue left. Irritated, she reached out and listed more ingredients for Hunter to add to the mixture.

_"And he's given 13 a head start on our plan! A plan which is very likely going to fail now because your foolishness!"_ she added at the end.

"Oh shut up Mya, get off your high horse before you break your neck," Hunter muttered, grabbing the listed ingredients and mixing them in.

"Help me Cato!" their blond captive roared, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Will you shut up you whiny bitch?!" Hunter yelled. His old self was slowly coming back to him, his short temper and mood swings. Mya punctuated the point with a smack across the face. Sadly this only made the prisoner scream harder. His wrists were beginning to turn pink and chafe from the metal bindings strapped around them, his ankles already bleeding from his struggles. "God, this boy is going to be the death of my ear drums."

When the serum was mixed together, Hunter handed it to Mya, who ripped their prisoner's shirt up to his chin so she could inject the cure to the insane episode. Even though it was supposed to be inserted into the artery in the neck, if the need was drastic enough, it could be injected straight into the heart.

"You shouldn't scream for Cato, Peeta," Hunter said as the serum started to work into the boy's system. "He doesn't love you and wouldn't help you even if you screamed for him. Remember? You just missed your medication dosage, you're just confused."

Peeta's screaming slowly decreased until there was no sound. His chest heaved, his energy spent. He forced his eyes open again, the turqouise still there but rapidly fading. "Wh-what?" he asked, his voice cracked as it stung his raw throat.

"Your medication, remember? To regain your memory?" Hunter insisted.

A struggle to grasp the truth flashed across Peeta's eyes, confusion spreading across his face. Even though he still seemed disoreinated, he nodded. "Am I okay now?" he asked.

_"Of course you are,"_ Mya wrote. _"You're okay now."_

~xXx~

Cato watched the blonde girl wander around the bomb shelter aimlessly, her eyes blank and dazed. He lay on his side on the hospital bed, having nothing else to do but watch the girl as she walked around without a purpose. He remembered seeing her in the army ward while visiting Rye and recognized her as the girl who was hit by debris of the explosion that killed Wheat Mellark and injured Peeta's father and wasn't right of mind anymore. He knew that Peeta knew her at one point, because he had seen him talk to her at the Victory Tour party in 12.

She would sit beside people and introduce herself, shaking hands with them and trying to start a conversation. The citizens of 13 were weary of her and her state of mind so they wouldn't engage in anything with her. Cato thought it was quite sad, as every time he saw her, she was always on her own.

His body was heavy because of the sedative and he could barely move without having to put intense effort into it. He understood why they did what they did but he hated the fact that he had to be sedated in the first place. He was supposed to be holding up position as the Mockingjay and yet he had to be sedated twice now because he couldn't handle hard news involving Peeta. He had to learn to get his act together, for Peeta's sake. If he had the strength to fight this venom they were giving him, then Cato had to gather the strength to stand and fight as the Mockingjay.

"Hello."

Cato's eyes drifted up and he was surprised to see the blonde girl hovering by his bed. She sat down on her haunches so she was eye-level with him, her hospital clothes pooling around her on the floor. "Hello," Cato replied.

"I, Madge," the girl said, shoving her hand out and almost poking his eye out with her fingertips.

"Cato," Cato replied, shaking her outstretched hand.

Madge leaned forward so their noses were nearly pressed together. "You da Mockingjay bird," she whispered, her voice hushed and awed.

"Tragically," Cato answered. He wasn't uncomfortable because of her proximity, she didn't seem to be the sort who'd intentionally make someone feel awkward. It wasn't like she was trying to pull his eyelashes or poke his cheek. She was just staring at him with an intense gaze, the sort of gaze that made him feel like she was searching his soul.

"Ca-CA!" Madge yelled, intimidating a bird's call. Cato winced at how loud her voice was. She sat back and grinned a ludicris grin."That's not the right Mockingjay sound, they don't sound like birds, they don't go, ca-CA! They sing, like angels."

"Angels?" Cato asked.

"Angels in the sky, humming with notes, no words," Madge clarified. She lurched forward and grabbed Cato's face, her eyes frantic and desperate as she stared at him with a wild gaze. He was startled by her sudden movement, trying not to let it show on his face. "Birds not supposed to exist, a kick in the backside to the Capitol. A spit in the face, a laugh never heard. Ha! Never supposed to exist, never supposed to happen."

Was she ranting now? Oh god, was she going to have an episode right there in front of him? Was he supposed to do something? Calm her down?

"Remember da real enemy Mockingjay bird, don't let them drown you! Don't! Do the thing they were bred to do. Beat the opressor, watch the opressed, nothing is what is seems, help them, save them but be vigilant and keep the eyes sharp!"

"Okay, Madge, come on, back to bed." Primrose appeared, Kayla in close tow, and gently took Madge's elbow, helping her up and guiding her back to her hospital bed. The blonde girl kept muttering madly under her breath, repeating the word 'Mockingjay' over and over again.

While Primrose lead Madge back to bed, Kayla sat on the edge of Cato's bed. Her blonde hair was tied back in a messy bun, strands of hair sticking up everywhere. She nervously chewed on her thumbnail, an anxious habit she'd picked up as soon as the war began. "How's the course going?" Cato asked his sister.

"It's amazing Cato," Kayla said sincerely. She looked at him with bright but tired eyes. "But it's exhausting as well."

"Is it worth-while?"

Kayla nodded. "Oh yeah," she said. "I really can't wait until I can get my Medic badge like Prim. I can't wait to start helping people in need. It will maybe make up for my mistakes."

"Your mistakes?" Cato couldn't recall Kayla having a history of mistakes, nor did he ever think she would have felt that she had to make up for anything. "What mistakes have you made?"

Kayla shrugged. "Having ten boyfriends between ages ten to fourteen, knawing through boys like an intimacy hungry phriah. Training to kill people in the Hunger Games without remorse," she explained. She smiled weakly. "Forgetting to feed your goldfish and trying to replace it with a twin when it died."

Cato smiled, remembering how he immediately knew that the goldfish in the bowl was not his. He also remembered how his sister had fleeting, careless relationships with boys but he never thought it was something she felt she had to make up for, as most of the boys weren't even significent parts of her life. As for the training to kill in the Hunger Games thing . . . well, he was beginning to feel the same way about that.

She brushed her hair back from her face and looked at Cato. "Guess what Prim told me," she said.

"Um, your bellybutton can grow pineapples?" Cato guessed.

Kayla laughed and playfully thumped him. "No," she said. "She told me she can give me this medication that will cure my DID."

Despite his heavy body, Cato forced himself up onto his elbows. "What?" he asked slowly, wondering if he heard her right.

"Prim says she can cure my DID," Kayla repeated. She didn't look happy but she didn't look sad either. Cato wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about it either.

"She's going to give you something to get rid of Jamie, Beth and Jack?"

Kayla nodded. "I'm not sure how to react," she replied. "I don't know whether I should do it. I mean, I knew this day would come eventually, but I don't know if Iwant to let them go anymore. They've been a part of my life for so long now, I'm worried it would feel like a part of me is missing once they're gone."

For as long as Cato could remember, Jamie, Beth and Jack were a part of his sister. It had been so long that he considered all three alters his siblings, even if they didn't get along a lot. Even though they plagued Kayla, drove her insane sometimes, made her suffer nightmares, they became a part of her. And Cato didn't know how she'd be able to cope without them, as she had grown to depend on them so much.

"It's ultimately your decision," he told her. "I don't want to tell you something and make you feel like my judgement is better than yours."

Kayla looked at the floor, her hair falling back into her face. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "Prim says I have time to think about it."

"Well, at least you don't have to answer immediately," Cato said. Kayla nodded, the movement sluggish, like she wasn't so sure. "You have time to consider your options and figure out what you really want to do."

"I suppose," Kayla mumbled.

"Hey," Cato nudged her with his knee so she'd look at him, "it's going to be okay, no matter what you decide." Kayla bit her lip and nodded, crawling up onto the bed and lying beside him. Cato wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin against her head, just like they used to do when they were kids. "We're all going to be okay."

~xXx~

"Peeta, this is Wayne."

Peeta smiled at the Capitol man, shaking his hand and nodding his head. "Pleased to meet you Wayne," he said. President Snow smiled as well, pleased with how the fundraiser ball had turned out. All proceeds were going to food and blankets for the fall-out shelters in case 13 decided to bomb them. He'd been meeting and greeting with Peeta all night, introducing him to all the major benefactors at the ball.

"The pleasure is all mine," Wayne replied. He wore a massive smile but it somehow seemed artficial. Peeta chalked it down to maybe one too many plastic surgery procedures.

"Wayne is a close friend of mine," Snow explained. "And even though I must go now, I trust you Peeta I'm leaving you in good hands, I assure you."

"I trust you dad," Peeta smiled, not worried about his father lying to him, especially about a topic as sensitive like leaving him alone with a strange. President Snow clapped his back and left with a bright grin on his face. Peeta was happy to see his dad so joyful for once. The war had been hitting him so hard.

"It's honestly lovely to meet you Mr Mellark," Wayne said, starting to lesuirely walk in the direction of the balcony. "I've heard many things."

"Good things, I hope," Peeta replied, putting his hands into his pockets and enjoying the clean, crisp feeling of the night air on the balcony. Wayne shut the doors behind them and joined him at the edge. He laughed.

"Don't worry, all good things," he said. He looked behind him at the party, where you could still see the others dancing through the glass doors. When he was assured that no one was going to hear them, he turned back to Peeta and said, "Listen, Mr Mellark, I've got something of great importance to tell you."

Peeta blinked, surprised by the man's urgency. "What is it?" he asked.

"I'm a rebel, a spy for District 13. I can tell you anything you need to know," Wayne said in a hushed whisper, speaking so fast Peeta could barely keep up. "Coin has been updating me, especially on the new Mockingjay, your partner Cato-"

"Ex partner," Peeta interuppted, a frown etched onto his features. "Why in the world would you think I'd want to know about 13, or Cato for that matter? You're lucky I'm not going straight to my father about your being a spy . . ."

Now it was Wayne's turn to frown in confusion. "I thought you were better, after the propaganda video where you warned 13 of the bombings?"

Peeta groaned, throwing his face into his hands. "Don't remind me," he said. "I missed a dosage of my medication and went nuts. It was so stupid of me. I was supposed to go to Hunter and I forgot. And I messed everything up for dad and his plans. I feel like such an idiot."

"So who's side are you on exactly?" Wayne asked, completely disoreintated.

"My father's obviously," Peeta answered. He regarded Wayne curiously. "Are there many of you . . . rebels . . . in the Capitol?"

Wayne shook his head. "I'm not sure I should tell you that, if you're sure you're on your father's side of the war . . ." He frowned. "Are you _sure_? Because what the soliders in 13 are aware of, you were kidnapped by President Snow and considered a traitor, like Johanna, Annie and Ava . . ."

"I'm not a traitor!" Peeta exclaimed. "I would never go against my father's word. He's _family!_ I think you've been getting your information from a misleading source. I don't give a damn about 13. And, if you have the chance talk to your superiors, you can tell them exactly that. Oh, and P.S, tell Cato that he can shove his pretentious attitude and I'm no longer interested in being involved with such a sick son of a bitch!"

With that he turned and left the balcony, rejoining the party irritated and annoyed.

Wayne stood on the balcony, dumbstruck. He took out his PDA and tapped out a message to President Coin.

_'We have a problem. The outburst last night was definitely because of the tracker jacker venom. He's lost everything he was before he was kidnapped, he is a completely different person. There is still a sliver of turquoise in his eye and he claims that Snow is his father. And honestly, I think he's too far gone to be saved.'_

**A/N: Hey guys there's a poll posted up onto my profile, can you all take a look and vote please? :)**

**Please R&R! :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello guys! Sorry that my chapters haven't been very long recently but I've been trying to get them out as soon as possible so you don't have to be kept waiting too long (:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Or the quote from to Kill a Mockingbird.**

Chapter Seven

"A lot of this stuff seems very . . ." Cato frowned at the script, trying to find the right word. The bomb scare ended two hours previous and Coin was very keen to jump straight into the Mockingjay propos. A group of people had been brought together, their homeland ranging from 3-13, and they were responsible for filming and editing all the footage.

Kayla peered over his shoulder, having to push up on her tiptoes to see properly. "Wooden?" she tried.

Cato nodded. "Exactly."

Cressida, the propo director, looked scandalized. "Excuse me, that's good stuff," she said. "Would you like to improv it? See how that turns out for the Districts?"

"I could write better stuff in my sleep!" Kayla exclaimed. She took the script off Cato and ran her finger along the first line. She read it out loud in a robotic voice, "'I am Cato Hadley and I am the Mockingjay for the rebllion.' Oh _really?_ We had _no_ idea! He doesn't need to state who he is, everyone already knows."

"People are expecting Peeta," Cressida pointed out. "People need to know that Cato is taking his place."

Kayla frowned. "But shouldn't he be able to express that through his words?" she asked. "Through the encouragement he should be giving?"

Cato decided it was best not to complain and took the script back from Kayla. "It's okay, I'll read it." Kayla snatched the script back and started flicking through it, reading the rest of what had been written. "Who's idea was it to script the propos anyway?"

"Fulvia Cardew," Messalla, Cressida's assistant, answered.

"Who?" Kayla asked.

"She's Plutarch's assitant," Messalla clarified. "She makes a lot of his decisions for him, especially now since he can't seem to cope with life in 13."

Cato rolled his eyes. The Head Gamemaker was finding life in 13 difficult because he had become so used to the easy going life of the Capitol. Where luxieries were always in reach and there wasn't any reason to worry about anything. Now he was in 13, he had to adjust to military life, life on a schedule, a life where everything is rationed because everything is scarce, even food.

"All the Capitol rebels are going through the same thing," Cressida muttered. The propo crew themselves were originally from the Capitol and probably held sympahty towards Plutarch because they were going through the same thing right now. District 13 were _very_ strict. You were given your own portion of food for breakfast, lunch and dinner and you ate it, all of it, or you'd be considered wasteful. And wasting in 13 was a disgusting thing to do.

"Awww, poor babies," Kayla said in a patronizing tone. Cato hit her upside the head for being so rude. "Ow! What the hell?!"

"Hush up," Cato hissed back. Kayla scowled and smacked his arm in return. He looked at Cressida and Messalla apologetically. "Sorry about her."

Cressida nodded as if she understood and Messalla simply shrugged.

"Cressida, the cameras are all set up!" A man came into the small discussion room, dressed in military clothes, like he was about to go out to war right that moment. He looked vaguely familiar but Cato couldn't place him. He looked at his sister and she seemed to recognize him too but was struggling to figure out where, just like he was.

"Thanks Castor," Cressida replied.

"Pollux is just fixing up the backdrop," Castor explained.

Pollux . . . Cato knew that name . . .

Kayla stood up from her seat. "Pollux Green?"

Castor looked at her curiously. "Yeah," he said.

Cato then remembered. Pollux Green. He was Ava Green's father. He had never met the man before but he had seen him in passing in District 2. He was alive! They hadn't killed the rest of Ava's family because of what Peeta did! Suddenly invigorated, Cato got up and went into the room Castor just came from and immediately saw Pollux hooking a green screen onto hooks that hung from the ceiling.

"Pollux?" he asked.

Pollux turned around, eyebrows raising when he saw Cato standing there, with Kayla standing close behind. "You don't know us," Cato said. "But we knew your daughter, Ava?" Green screen forgotten, Pollux dumped what he was doing and looked at them with eyes keen to know more. Cato wondered why he didn't talk back . . . "Did they tell you what they did to her?"

Pollux shook his head.

"What do you know about my niece?" Castor asked.

"Your niece?!" Kayla exclaimed. "I didn't know Ava had an uncle."

Castor didn't look in the mood for chit-chat. "I lived in the Capitol. What do you know about my niece?" he said.

Cato stepped out of the way of the doorway so Castor could come into the room. Curious, Cressida and Messalla came in too. "She's an avox for the Capitol. They put her to work on the 2nd floor in the tribute quarters," Cato explained. "She's not hurt . . . as much as the obvious anyway . . ."

Castor looked relieved, weirdly enough. He looked at Pollux. "I told you they wouldn't hurt her anymore than they already had," he said.

Pollux forced a smile and made strange gestures with his hands.

"What's he doing?" Cato asked, confused.

"Signing," Cressida said.

"Why is he signing?"

Cressida tipped her head. "He's an avox," she said.

Castor nodded when Pollux finished. He turned to Cato. "He told me to thank you for telling us about Ava. We were all worried about what they were going to do to her because of our father's bauble," he said.

"Peeta didn't mean any harm when he helped her-" Cato began to say.

"It's okay, we know," Castor said. "It's not his fault."

An understanding passed between them then. Like a gaping wound being stitched up after hours of waiting in A&E. It wasn't Peeta's fault. And Ava's family knew this. They had been turned into avoxes, like Ava, but weren't killed, but they knew it wasn't Peeta's fault. Now the only person who had to be convinced was Peeta himself. The tiniest part of the wound that needed to be cleaned and fixed up.

"That boy dared to do what our father could only dream of doing," Castor said. "And I don't care if they blew up all of Panem because of it, it wasn't his fault, because he did it for our Ava. Coin may have given up on him, but Pollux and I haven't."

Cato knew what he was referring to. A rebel who was undercover in the Capitol had sent Coin a message a couple of days ago informing her that the medication had taken over Peeta and he was too far gone to be saved. Cato had locked himself in his room that day to prevent himself from causing serious damage to his surroundings. He couldn't believe that all Coin had to do was read a simple message to decide to give up on someone.

That was all Cato knew of the message because Coin hadn't let him read it all himself.

"Well, are we going to get this propo done or what?" Cressida said chirply.

Cato tried to perform as he was supposed to, but he knew he wasn't doing it properly as soon as he started. It was hard to read from a script and be as motivated in that moment as he was supposed to be for the propo to have any effect. Kayla even fell asleep twice while they were filming.

Eventually Cressida dismissed them both, saying that she was sure she could get something out of the mess she had just filmed.

So they left.

~xXx~

"Your brother . . . well . . . your brother isn't the best right now." Cato sat in the seat beside Rye's bed, doing what he did everyday when he had a free rec hour on his schedule. He liked to keep Rye informed about the situation, especially where it involved his brother. Cato felt like he deserved to know, even though he was still in a coma. Prim had said it was good to talk to him, because sometimes people who are in a coma can hear what's going on around them.

"He's still very sick," Cato explained. "Snow is still posioning him with the tracker jacker venom, you see. I'd say he's greatly confused because of this."

Rye was still, showing no sign of consuming any of the information Cato was giving him. Cato paused, taking in the boy's placid expression, his face obscured by the oxygen mask covering his mouth. He looked so much like Peeta but didn't, if that made sense. They had the same blonde hair, same facial structure, but Cato thought it suited Peeta better. Maybe that was just because he loved Peeta more. If Rye had a girlfriend, she would probably think he suited it more. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder.

A camera sat in Cato's lap. Cressida had left it behind after visting her sister in the ward. He wasn't sure how it worked but, to fill the silence, he began to fiddle around with it. When his finger bumped a red button at the top of the camera, a matching red light flickered on.

Cato peered through the camera lens, surprised to see that he had managed to start recording. He looked around the room with the device, randomly filming nothing in particular. He had been doing this for five minutes when a cry made him jump.

Posy still hadn't gotten over her cold and cried on a regular basis. Cato got off his seat and went across the ward, crouching in front of Posy's cot and gently shushing her. She was kneeling on the cot mattress, her small hands clenched around the bars of the cot. "Sssh, it's okay," he said to her, trying to sound as soothing as he could. The camera was still in his hand and he hadn't realized that he was recording Posy's distress.

"Is this what you wanted to accomplish, Snow?" he muttered to himself. "A poor little girl with no parents because of your sick Games?"

Posy cried harder, letting go of the bars and falling onto her back. Feeling helpless, Cato stood back up and stroked the hair back from her face, hoping that it would seem like a comforting gesture to her.

But then a louder scream over-rode Posy's.

Alarmed, Cato whipped around. Madge was writhing in her bed, her face contorted in rage. Sweat coated her skin and she screamed helplessly, her eye welded shut. "DADDY RUN!" she roared.

"Madge!" Cato exclaimed, running to her bed and dumping the camera at the bottom of it. He grabbed her wrists as she tried to lash out on him in her sleep. It was just like when Peeta used to scream and fight in his sleep. He had to pin her down and let her know it was okay. "Madge, wake up, it's not real!"

"MUMMY WHERE ARE YOU?!" Madge screamed, tears pouring down her face. "IT'S SO DARK! I CAN'T SEE YOU! DADDY!"

"Madge, it's alright, wake up!" Cato yelled, giving her a small shake. Madge's eyes flickered open and she screamed one last time, struggling against Cato to get out of his grasp. "Hey, hey, it's okay, it's me, remember? Cato!"

Madge relaxed into the bed a little bit. "Cato?" she whispered. "Da Mockingjay bird?"

"Yes, the Mockingjay bird," Cato said gently, swiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "You're alright now, you're safe." Madge lurched at him, wrapping her arms around him and holding tight. Cato hugged her back, relieved that her nightmares were gone. For now.

"_You can kill as many bluejays as you like, but it's a sin to kill a Mockingbird_," Madge whispered.

Cato pulled back and frowned. "What?" he asked.

Madge smiled, as if she hadn't just had a horrible nightmare. She placed a finger to her lips. "Sssssh."

Cato stared at her in surprise, unaware that the red light was still flickering on the camera.

**A/N: Don't forget to vote in my poll if you haven't already! It closes on Tuesday! :D**

**Please R&R! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm sorry if my writing gets lazy near the end, I'm suffering from severe hayfever and I'm nearly falling asleep at my laptop.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Eight

Peeta sat in his bed, watching the propo on loop. He was just out of the shower and couldn't resist turning it back on. His dad didn't know he had recorded the clip and Peeta preferred it to stay that way, as his father wouldn't be too happy about it if he ever found out. He still hadn't adjusted to the extravagance of Capitol lifestyle. The silks and fancy cottons were rich and alien to Peeta. Even if his medication blurred a lot of his old life into staticky fuzz, he still seemed to be stuck on the peasant lifestyle he used to live.

The D13 propo started in a hospital. Whoever held the camera was an amateur, the lens constantly wobbling and the picture taking a good minute or two to adjust into something clear. Said amateur's breathing could be heard, heavy but even. Even when the baby started to cry, the breathing remained calm immediately going to the aid of the child.

Peeta didn't recognize the little girl who was crying. A tiny voice at the back of his head told him that he should. She seemed familiar in some aspects but ultimately Peeta could not place her. She was very young, she still slept in a cot. And the words spoke next were what struck him the most.

_"Is this what you wanted to accomplish, Snow? A poor little girl with no parents because of your sick Games?"_

Even though he didn't recognize the girl, Peeta knew the voice. It was Cato. Cato. The lying, cheating, horrible, sadistic bastard who had tried to ruin his life. He still suffered nightmares because of that son of a bitch. What was he trying to accomplish in recording a little girl cry? Was he trying to get sympathy points? Was he trying to get the Districts on his side by blaming Snow for the death of her parents? It wasn't his father's fault, none of this was his father's fault.

As if to make matters worse, a different girl started to scream. A blonde girl a couple of beds down. Peeta knew her. Her name was Madge, his mother explained to him who she was. She had goaded him into becoming the Mockingjay when Cato relented just the tiniest of bits and let him visit 12. She told him lies about rebellion and uprisings, she scared him into trying to act. His mother told him that he had to be weary of Madge, because she was a manipulator.

But this girl didn't look like she could manipulate a spider into catching a fly.

She looked broken. She was having nightmares. She screamed for her parents to run from something no one could see but her. Cato had went to her, dumping the camera on the bed in just the right position that you could still see Madge as she roared in fear. He pinned her wrists to the bed to stop her from hurting herself or him as he tried to calm her down.

Peeta shut his eyes. That seemed so familiar. The nightmares, the soothing, the words of calm and relaxation, whispers of promises falling on broken ears. Cato looking terrified, his eyes glistening with tears. He was worried, for some reason, concered, scared? Why was he seeing this? It had to be a lie, one of the few apparations that manage to slip through the wall the medication put up in his mind to protect him from the untrue stories Cato had filled him with.

He curled his knees up to his chest and watched as Madge woke up and Cato held her close, shushing her, comforting her. The fire ate up the image, leaving a message in the black darkness.

_Why let this pain continue? This is what will happen if Snow wins the war._

_Join the Rebels, and fight for the right side._

The clip clicked off and Peeta sighed, resting his forehead on his knees. Cato was obviously trying to capture the attention of those who had lost loved ones during the Quarter Quell Bombings. Those who had people close to them who had been severely injured. It was a low blow and Peeta knew that a lot of very naive people were going to listen. It wasn't fair. Why were they blaming his father for the things that were out of his control?

His watch bleeped. Peeta reached out and pulled open his bedside drawer. His medication lay inside. Syringe and turquoise liquid. He noticed that when the medication was kept together in high concentrations, it had a deep green element to the colouring.

The needle slid into the container smoothly and sucked up as much of the turqouise-green liquid as it could hold. Peeta winced as he placed it at his neck, always hating the sensation it caused as it entered his veins. As his thumb pushed the plunger, a shudder ran through him and his mind began to cloud up.

His mother told him that the best thing to do when he took his dosages was to lie down and let it take effect. He hated how the medication confused him. It was always coupled with a feeling of nausea as the memories in his head were rearranged to fit the truth. When he asked his mum about why he had to inject so much, and she said that if he didn't, the lies would eventually start sliding back into place and he'd start believing them again. And he couldn't start believing them again.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could remember how Cato hurt him. How he used to treat him and use him as an nothing but a sexual object to please his desires. But once, when he was only . . . what? Five minutes late on taking his dosage? Something else leaked through and instead of Cato, it was Hunter Mortimer, Mya's friend. Peeta didn't really interact with Hunter that much and it confused him as to why he would see him in Cato's place sometimes. Maybe his head really was truly fucked up.

He picked up the remote and switched off the t.v, letting silence spill in and fill the room. He needed sleep anyway, his dad said they were going to do some visits to people suffering from food shortages in the Capitol, due to the Districts rebelling. Snow explained to him that the citizens were looking at him, Peeta, to know what to do. If he was holding strong, even though everything else seemed to be against him, then they could take comfort in that and do the same.

And Peeta was all too happy to provide that comfort.

~xXx~

"They're thinking about going into the Capitol," Fulvia Cardew said one day in the mess hall. Cato looked at her with a confused frown, wondering why she had decided to bring that up so randomly. "They want to try and get the prisoners out."

"The prisoners?" Kayla asked excitedly. "Does that include-"

"Sadly, no," Fulvia sighed. "Mr Mellark is no longer considered a prisoner, remember? Coin classifys him as a traitor now. They have no reason to save him."

Cato was disgusted. "Did Coin watch the same footage as us?" he asked. "When his eye turned turqouise and that blonde woman sat on him while Mya injected that stuff into him? Surely Coin has to know that they're controlling him somehow."

Fulvia shrugged, swirling her spoon around in her meager portion of stew. She looked very pale and her cheeks were hollow, she looked almost like a ghost more than an actual person. Her body obviously hadn't adjusted to the small portions of food that was customory in 13 but probably considered scandalisingly small in the Capitol. "I don't make the rules," Fulvia said quietly. "I just follow them."

Cato looked down at his own food, not sure why he had adjusted to the change so quicky. Food had never been a problem in his District, like it might have in the outlying Districts, 10, 11 and 12. Was it because he was in the Hunger Games twice? His system was used to being starved that he barely noticed anymore.

He looked at Kayla. She was staring at her empty bowl, as if wishing more in. It broke his heart to see her so desperate for food. Like the others, she was rapidly losing weight but keeping just enough on to be considered healthy. That's what 13 do, they examine your current state of health and physicality and give you just enough food to keep you going. That's why you always have to flash your schedule through the scanner before you recieve your food, so they know what portion to give you.

Every day the last thing on Cato's mind was eating. And even now he didn't feel hungry. He glanced at the guards on mess hall duty, who weren't watching them as present. While their backs were turned, he switched his and Kayla's bowls. She looked at him with wide eyes, unable to believe that he had just done that.

"But your food . . ." she whispered.

"It's okay, you finish it for me," Cato whispered back.

"I couldn't possibly-"

"Kay, eat the food."

Kayla stared at him for a moment, in disbelief, before a smile broke out across her face. "Thank you," she whispered. Cato smiled back and patted her head, made much more happy by watching her eat than he would have ever felt by eating it himself.

"If it makes you feel any better," Fulvia said, "I think you might be on the rescue mission."

"How is that supposed to make me feel better? Going into the Capitol with knowledge that I can't go in search of Peeta?" Cato asked dryly.

Fulvia leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I don't mean that. What I mean is that you could use your position on the rescue mission team to your advantage. Go in search of Peeta and bring him back. Of course, you'd get yourself into all kinds of trouble but I'm sure you'd be more than willing to do that, for your boyfriend's sake."

"But if I took him against Coin's will, what would she do to him when we got back to 13?" Cato asked, his voice hushed.

Fulvia sat back. "I don't know. That's the thing. Unless you are willing to take full responsibility for his recovery then he would very likely be put into prison."

"I'm more than willing to take responsibility for the recovery," Cato said. Harold could help him. He seemed to know a lot about the venom they were injecting Peeta with, maybe he'd know a thing or two about flushing it out of a person's system.

"Prim and I would be willing to help," Kayla put forward. There was four people on Peeta's team already. Five if Fulvia counted as well. "We may not know a lot about what Snow has been doing to him but I'm sure with a little guidance and medical research we could find something useful to do."

"I think your little band of rebels within the rebels is coming along nicely," Fulvia beamed.

"Are you with us?" Cato asked.

Fulvia sighed. "Sadly only in spirit. I am still Plutarch's assitant, after all. I must stay by his side in whatever decisions he makes."

Being there in spirit is better than not being there at all.

Maybe they acutally had a shot at saving Peeta from President Snow.

~xXx~

"What do you mean we can't save him?!"

Harold's eyes were directed at the floor, unable to meet Cato and Kayla's gazes. "Exactly as it sounds," he muttered. "We can't take him from the Capitol."

"Why not?!" Kayla demanded angrily.

"If you're worrying about what Coin will say, Fulvia said she should be alright with it as long as we take full responsibility for Peeta's recovery," Cato tried to explain. Harold looked at him with a horrified expression. "You know a thing or two about the venom they're giving him and Kayla and Prim are going to do some medical research to see if they can find anything that will help."

"They won't find anything," Harold said sharply. "There's nothing in any datebase in the country that details anything about tracker jacker venom. The only people who know about it are the people who have either worked with it or been given it."

Cato remembered the story Harold told him. About how he was an experiment child and one of the things they trialed on him was the tracker jacker venom. "But you've had experience with it, surely you know a thing or do about ridding it from someone's system," he insisted. "Why are you being so reluctant? This is Peeta's life we're talking about here!"

"Yeah, his life which will be put at risk the moment we take him from the Capitol," Harold snapped.

"What do you mean?"

"If we take him away from the Capitol then he won't be able to take his venom dosages," Harold said, begging them to understand.

"What are you talking about? We don't _want_ him to take the venom, that's the idea!" Cato exclaimed. "Why would we rescue him just to continue to give him the thing that they're torturing him with?"

"Oh god Cato, you don't understand," Harold groaned. He shook his head and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "What would happen if you were suddenly taken off your bi-polar meds?"

"His bi-polar would get worse," Kayla answered instantly. How she could get to the answer before Cato could? He was the one taking the tablets, not her. "The mood swings would increase and he'd probably bite the head off of anyone who came within five feet of him."

Harold nodded. "Exactly."

"What's the point in bringing that up?" Cato demanded.

"Wait," Kayla said, "are you trying to say that if we don't give Peeta the tracker jacker dosages his condition will only get worse?"

"Not exactly. He'd develop a lot of severe illnesses, diseases we don't have the facilities to treat here in 13," Harold explained. "It was okay for me because I was in the Capitol and Snow knew how to treat such sickness but we just don't have that here! We can't take him away, he'd be in more danger here than he would be there."

"What sort of illnesses?" Cato asked.

"Illnesses that can only be treated in the Capitol like cancer and blood disease. Heart defects, liver failure, brain damage," Harold listed. "Anything you can think of, he will be vulnerable of developing it."

"Prim and I could research how to treat those," Kayla said firmly. "We could make salves and stuff. Surely it isn't a lost cause."

"That's cute Kayla but there's nothing you can do," Harold sighed. "These illnesses are beyond anything we can do here. If we were to save him and take him back here, Peeta would die within the first five months of being here."

"_Die_?!" Cato snapped. "That has to be an exaggeration. Peeta can't just die, it's not possible."

"What the hell do you mean it's not possible?" Harold exclaimed. "Everyone dies eventually, some sooner than others."

"But _not_ Peeta," Cato replied. "Not _my_ Peeta. He won't go down that easy."

"He won't have any control over it."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"So you're not going to help us then," Cato stated.

Harold shook his head. "I can't. I don't want to be responsible for Peeta's death. You can do what you like, but I'm not going to be a part of it."

Three people on Peeta's team. And one more in spirit.

That still had to be quite strong . . . right?

Fulvia was right. Cato was put on the rescue mission. There was at least twenty soliders gathered together with the intent of getting the prisoners out of captivity. Cato was glad that they had gathered so many together, because at least when he broke away from the group, there would still be nineteen in search of the others.

Cato wasn't sure what he was going to find in the Capitol but he had to be prepared for anything. How much worse could it get anyway?

Peeta was going to be rescued from the Capitol, he was going to make sure of it.

**A/N: Please R&R with you thoughts! I apologize for any mistakes! (:**


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